


The Pool

by Heather_Night



Series: The Pool [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, POV Derek, Rope Bondage, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:28:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen Wolf had just wrapped its final season a few months ago when former co-stars, Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, meet up at a wedding.  They embark on a new kind of relationship together but along the way someone takes a nefarious shine to Stiles.  Can the new couple navigate through the the fall out of a violent act intact?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pool

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my first entry for Round 7 of Hurt/Comfort Bingo. I'm gunning for a blackout card this year but I'll be happy if I just improve upon last year's showing.
> 
> This AU features a blend of the show's characters (who are actors playing different characters) and some real persons (hello, Jeff Davis) while utilizing some canon, including elements of Season 4. I'm playing fast and loose with many things but I figure that's the point of writing fiction. I hope my choices don't disappoint you. 
> 
> If you think I need to add a tag, please let me know. I'm still getting the hang of that.

The Pool

Are you alive?  
I touch you.  
You quiver like a sea-fish.  
I cover you with my net.  
What are you - banded one?  


\- _The Pool_ by Hilda ‘H.D.’ Doolittle

 

Derek was excited to see the Teen Wolf cast and crew, even though they weren’t gathered for work. The series had gone out on a high note two months ago but Scott and his long time love, and former leading lady, Allison, had finally tied the knot with what seemed like the whole city invited to the reception.

Scooping up the two bottled waters from the bar, Derek shouldered his way over to the table where Jeff, Christian and Stiles were congregated. 

Lydia stepped into his path before he made it to his destination.

“No Braeden tonight?” Lydia asked as she pulled him in for a hug, a difficult feat considering the substantial height difference between the two of them despite the staggeringly high heels she wore.

Lydia had portrayed Holland on the series and her character had played out a slow-burn romance with Stiles’s character, Dylan, throughout the length of the show. Holland had never much liked Derek’s character, Tyler H. also known as Hoech, short for Hoechlin, but Lydia and Derek got along great.

Derek had known he’d be asked this question but this was about the fifth person making the inquiry and he was tired of it. He still managed to summons a smile although he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “Um, no Braeden. She and I are taking a break right now.”

“There seems to be a lot of that going around right now,” Lydia said as she threw a look over her shoulder at the table Derek had been trying to reach. Before he had a chance to say anything she announced, “I need to go join my date and get off my feet.” 

“Sure. You look fantastic, Lydia. Enjoy the rest of the reception,” Derek said as he impatiently shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Lydia cocked her head to the side, batting long, heavily mascaraed eyelashes at him; he’d think she was flirting with him if he didn’t already know she was madly in love with her current boyfriend. “Hey, Derek, take care of yourself, okay? And maybe see if you can get that idiot to take care of himself, too.” She pressed her bright red lips to his cheek and sashayed off, her black and red maid-of-honor dress billowing around her shapely legs.

This time he made his way unimpeded to the table, depositing the waters in front of Stiles. Derek was accustomed to how the younger man forgot everything—proper hydration, nutrition and sleep—when he was busy and there was no denying that as Scott’s best man, Stiles had been running all night. As Stiles’s self-appointed big brother, Derek took it upon himself to take care of the younger man.

Before greeting the younger man who was undeniably his favorite former cast mate, Derek turned to address the driving forces behind Teen Wolf. 

Christian, one of the show’s head writers, drew Derek into a quick hug, “Wonderful to see you, Derek,” Derek tried to tamp down on the wide smile splitting his face; he loved the way his name sounded delivered in that classy British accent of Christian’s. “Please excuse me, I need to find where our illustrious director, Russell, went off to as he was supposed to bring back our drinks.”

Jeff took Christian’s place and delivered his usual man hug replete with two bangs on his back. “Thanks for joining us, Derek. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” 

As soon as Jeff was done with his greeting, Stiles was launching himself into Derek’s arms, squeezing him tight. “Great to see you, Derek. I’ve missed you, buddy.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Derek was happy to stand there and hug Stiles but the longer the hug lasted, the more he became aware of how much of the younger man’s weight he was holding up. Stiles’s face was buried in the side of his neck but he didn’t smell any alcohol on his breath. “Hey, Stiles, you okay?”

Stiles pushed back out of Derek’s arms and sunk into his chair. “Just tired.”

Derek thrust one of the bottled waters into Stiles’s hands. “Drink up.”

Shooting a glance at Jeff, he noticed the frown on the man’s face. Derek mouthed, “Everything okay?” as Stiles tilted his head back, neck extended, gulping at the water. Jeff shrugged his shoulders, glanced at Stiles, and the confused look on his face morphed into a frown and was accompanied by a shake of the head no.

Scott bounded over to the table, his indefatigable energy not lagging yet despite the late hour. “Hey guys, I need to borrow Stiles for a while.” 

The best man pasted a smile on his face and rose to his feet gamely. Scott nudged him away from the table. “We need to start the wedding dances, Stiles. Could you head over to the big table?”

Stiles flashed a tired smile around the table and then headed off. His stride was powerful and Derek noticed several people melt as they were caught in the mega watt smile that was flashed their way; if Derek hadn’t held a visibly exhausted Stiles in his arms moments ago he would also think everything was fine with the actor.

The handsome groom clapped a hand on Derek’s shoulder, “Thanks for coming, dude. Could you do me a favor and make sure Stiles gets back to his room after the reception? I don’t think he’s feeling the greatest and I’m worried about him.”

Those soulful brown eyes stared down at him. “Of course, Scott. And again, congratulations. I know you and Allison will be very happy together.”

Scott flashed his own high wattage smile in thanks before striding off while Derek shifted on to a chair next to Jeff. “So what’s going on?”

Jeff cleared his throat. “I thought we could do a little something on YouTube for the Hobrien fans since I teased them pretty much all series and never put your characters together,” Jeff explained. 

When Derek had asked what was going on, he’d been referring to Stiles but Jeff was as close-mouthed about real life as he was about his characters and plots so there was no use pushing him. He’d let Derek know what was going on in his own time. 

“That sounds like it would be a crowd pleaser. What exactly did you have in mind?” Derek asked as he sipped from his water bottle. Derek never really understood why the fans had embraced the non-existent pairing on the show. He supposed it was the real life camaraderie they witnessed at fan events that bled into the fan shipping consciousness for their characters, Tyler and Dylan. 

Jeff’s eyes lit up and it was off to the races as he explained his vision. “It would be a gay Fifty Shades except nothing hardcore and it will only take a week to shoot once I’ve got everyone on board.”

“Who do you mean by everyone?” Derek wanted to get his facts straight before committing to the project although he couldn’t imagine a deal breaker. He loved working with Jeff as well as everyone else from the show. 

Jeff actually rubbed his hands together in glee. “In one scene I’ve got pretty much the whole gang, assuming everyone could make it. That would be Scott, Lydia, Allison, Kira and Malia. I’ve also put out feelers to see if Jackson and Isaac would like to do a scene.”

Derek felt his face crinkling into a huge grin. “You had me at doing something for the fans but this sounds like an unbelievable amount of fun. When did you want to start?”

“Your agent said you’ve got the time and green-lighted this project contingent on your agreement. Same with Stiles. If you’re both in then come by my place tomorrow morning to go over the specifics,” Jeff responded. 

Derek grabbed the hand the older man put out to shake but Derek used it to pull the man into a hug. “I’ll make sure we’re there.”

 _I’ll Be There_ by the Jackson 5 started playing and Derek looked toward the dance floor, applauding with the rest of the reception attendees as Allison and her dad took to the dance floor.

By the big table set up at the front of the room, Derek could see Stiles and Scott hugging. Scott cupped Stiles’s face in his hands and seemed to be giving him some sort of pep talk.

Derek scanned the other people watching the father-daughter dance, not wanting to stalk his friend. Everyone seemed mellow and to be having a good time.

The next time Derek looked over, Stiles was in the clutches of Allison’s creepy grandfather, Gerard. The man was a little taller than Stiles and he had his arm curled around Stiles’s shoulder. Derek could imagine the conversation was a variation on one of many that Allison’s male co-stars had been on the receiving end over the duration of the show: _You’re a bright young man with a very bright future ahead of you. Why don’t you come work for me?_

The man was positively loaded—he owned a security firm with his son, providing bodyguards, defense training and even sold firearms—to clients around the world. Unfortunately one couldn’t help but envision a sexual harassment suit if they contemplated working for the man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. 

Stiles was usually adept at making a getaway from Gerard Argent but this time he looked resigned. As though he lacked the energy to excuse himself. Very un-Stiles like.

Something was definitely amiss with Stiles and Derek planned to get to the bottom of it.

-0-

The motorcycle bearing Scott and Allison pulled away from the curb, the line of cans attached to it dragging behind it in a cacophony of noise announcing to the world their marriage. Somehow Derek thought Mr. Argent probably wasn’t very happy about his little girl roaring off into the dark on the back of a motorcycle. The happy couple didn’t seem to care though as they rode around the parking lot in a slow circuit, waving like mad, before accelerating off into the night.

Scott and Allison were heading to her apartment so they could grab their suitcases and then they were off to France for their honeymoon. Derek wondered if he’d ever meet the love of his life and get to experience a wedding and honeymoon.

Shaking off the melancholy that threatened to swamp him, Derek turned his attention to the well-wishers drifting away. He found himself glancing through the milling people, looking for that one certain someone. 

There, standing off to the side, away from everyone else, was Stiles. 

The younger man wobbled a bit as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Derek was already pushing his feet in that direction when Stiles sunk down, sitting on the curb without warning.

“Hey, you okay?” Derek asked as he crouched down, putting his hand on Stiles’s shoulder. 

Stiles visibly startled but quickly settled down when he saw who was touching him, flashing a tired grin at Derek. “Yeah, sure. It’s just been a really long day.”

“How about if we just sit here for a minutes, enjoy the night air, and then we can head inside?” Derek proposed. Scott had asked Derek to make sure Stiles got back to his room and even without Scott asking, Derek would’ve seen to it.

Stiles nodded his agreement, resting his cheek on his bent knees so he could keep Derek within his line of sight. “So where’s Braeden?”

Derek groaned theatrically but Stiles was the only person he wanted to talk to about his break up. “She and I had a parting of the ways,” Derek announced.

Sitting up straight, Stiles gawked before yelping, “What? I thought you two were going strong!”

Grimacing, Derek rubbed the middle of his forehead. “Well we had two weddings scheduled for today, her cousin’s and Scott’s and Allison’s. She was a bit ticked off that I choose this wedding over her cousin’s.”

“Wow, that sucks. Sorry, Derek. Do you think maybe you’ll patch things up?” Stiles asked, squeezing Derek’s shoulder. 

“To be honest, I think we’ve run our course. What about you? Where’s Heather?” Derek responded. He would happily bask in Stiles’s attention but he wondered why Stiles’s pretty little girlfriend wasn’t by his side. Lydia’s words earlier about relationships on break came to mind and he realized Stiles was probably in the same boat.

Stiles withdrew his hand from Derek’s shoulder and rubbed the back of his own neck, visibly uncomfortable. Derek was going to withdraw the question but before he could, Stiles forged ahead. “I’ve kind of had a string of bad luck.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you’re uncomfortable,” Derek blurted. He hated seeing Stiles troubled.

“You’re about the only person I don’t mind telling this to,” Stiles responded before ducking his head back down until his cheek rested on his knees again.

Derek couldn’t help the warmth that suffused his being. He knew he and Stiles had a strong bond but when Stiles said stuff like that, unprompted, it gave Derek’s heart a little kick of happiness. 

Derek and Stiles had initially bonded over their love of baseball. The bond had been cemented more deeply due to the sad histories both men had in common—Stiles losing his mother at a very young age to sickness and Derek losing a big chunk of his family, including his mother, in a house fire in his teens. Just before starting the show, he’d lost his sister, Laura, to a car accident. Stiles had served as a beacon of hope during the first year on the show, never treating him differently because of his situation but he always included Derek in the antics of the cast of which he was usually the instigator.

Derek scooted a little closer and nudged Stiles’s shoulder with his own, a touch of solidarity. “So tell me. What happened?”

“I can’t explain how it happened but someone sent pictures of me in a compromising position and Heather didn’t believe me when I said they were fake,” Stiles still sounded baffled, and hurt.

“Pictures of you and who?” Derek probed. Usually Stiles spewed the facts with little to no filter so the fact Derek had to pull the details out of his friend was pretty telling.

“Some random guy. I’d never laid eyes on him. But Heather fell for it, hook, line and sinker. I mean she’s in the business, she knows how digital media can be altered, but she said she believed it. Some bullshit about my attention not being on her and that she was way more into me than I was into her.” Stiles sighed, scrubbing his face with both hands. “She asked me to pack a bag and leave.”

Derek didn’t jump in with reassurances because he had oftentimes thought Stiles’s attention wasn’t centered on his girlfriend. That didn’t mean what had happened to Stiles didn’t cut him deeply.

Derek nudged Stiles’s shoulder again. “Maybe you’ll get back together?” Derek wasn’t going to put money on it but if that’s what Stiles wanted, Derek would support him.

Stiles’s expressive face was drawn as he frowned deeply. “Some things were said. I don’t think they can be taken back,” he explained softly.

It sounded like Heather had said some things Stiles couldn’t forget. If it had been Stiles who had made hurtful accusations, he would’ve owned up to them. Stiles was brutally hard on himself that way.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I know you really cared about Heather,” Derek said. 

“That’s not even the end of it though. I came down with food poisoning or something right after that and ended up in the ER. I was dehydrated and they wouldn’t let me leave. I missed the rehearsal last night and almost didn’t make it to the wedding on time today.” Stiles’s nose was crinkled up in that adorable way of his.

Derek couldn’t help himself from touching Stiles, assuring himself the guy was okay. He cupped the back of the younger man’s neck and squeezed. “So first someone sabotaged your relationship with Heather and then you got food poisoning. I don’t know, that’s a little too coincidental for my liking.”

Stiles barked out a laugh. “Let me guess, one’s an incident and two's a coincidence?” His character, Dylan, had used that line a time or two on the show and fandom had embraced it.

“There you two are. I should’ve known I’d find you hiding together,” Jeff exclaimed as he hustled down the sidewalk toward them.

Derek reluctantly climbed to his feet but it didn’t escape his attention that Stiles remained sitting on the curb. “We were just catching up,” he felt compelled to explain. 

Jeff waved off the explanation. “I just wanted to remind you that I’ll expect you at my house tomorrow. Instead of in the morning, let’s make it the afternoon. 2 p.m. work for you both?”

Derek was supposed to visit his uncle tomorrow afternoon but he could reschedule it. Peter didn’t seem to know when he was there half the time, just ignored him, and the other half of the time he ranted and raved over whatever had caught his attention. It was really sad how much the fire had screwed up his fun-loving uncle.

“Sure,” Stiles replied to Jeff’s question. “Assuming I’m awake by then.”

Despite feeling a little guilty about his uncle, Derek concurred with the new plan. “I’ll make sure Sleeping Beauty is on time. We’ll see you then.”

Jeff shook Derek’s hand but settled for ruffling Stiles’s hair as he walked by. Stiles frowned, looking like a disgruntled woodland creature with his hair askew. 

“You hesitated. Did you have plans already?” Stiles probed. The guy was way too intuitive for his own good.

Derek shrugged. “Well, I was supposed to visit Peter but I can do that another time.”

Stiles winced. “If you want to reschedule the meeting, we totally can do that. You know that, right? Jeff would understand. I can even go with you to visit your uncle if you want.”

“Stiles, I can’t ask you to do that,” Derek responded although he was deeply touched by the offer.

“You didn’t ask, I offered. If you change your mind, just let me know,” Stiles cajoled.

Derek withdrew his cell phone and texted a message to Peter’s nurse. It was her work phone so she wouldn’t get it until tomorrow and he wanted to make sure he contacted her before he got too busy. He just let her know he had a meeting and that he’d reschedule his visit soon. It was a bit cowardly of him, having the nurse break the news to his uncle, but Derek wasn’t in the mood to be shamed by Peter.

Pleased to have that dealt with, Derek put his hand out. “Come on, we’d better get some sleep. Did you book a room here?”

“Yeah. It was a room for two,” Stiles sighed, as he grabbed Derek’s hand.

“I’m in the same boat, buddy,” Derek replied as he effortlessly pulled Stiles to his feet.

They were standing under a light shining on the parking lot otherwise Derek might’ve missed the color washing out of Stiles’s cheeks. When his friend’s eyelids fluttered, Derek gathered him against his chest. “Stiles?”

Stiles leaned his weight into Derek, reminiscent to earlier in the evening at the table. Derek was on the verge of passing up concerned well on his way to alarmed when Stiles straightened his spine and stepped back. “Sorry. I got a little dizzy there for a minute.”

Knowing that Stiles had recently spent time in the ER, Derek decided he would personally escort Stiles to his room and see him tucked in. “Come on, give me your keycard. I’ll get you up to your room.”

When Stiles didn’t argue, and actually complied with Derek’s request, Derek knew his friend was feeling poorly. “Thanks, Der.”

Derek kept his arm around Stiles’s shoulders as he walked them down the sidewalk, into the hotel, and to the elevators. Derek punched the floor, relieved they were the only occupants on the elevator. Stiles leaned against the railing at the back of the car but didn’t stray from Derek’s side despite the space available. 

The floor dinged and Derek stepped out, his hand cupping Stiles’s elbow. Stiles seemed steady on his feet but Derek didn’t want to chance it and watch his friend face-plant on the carpeting.

Derek inserted the keycard and when it beeped and turned green, he pushed the door open, ushering Stiles inside. Stiles’s bag was open on the bed, the contents seemingly still sitting within. 

Stiles grimaced. “I was in such a rush, I just threw my stuff down, quick showered and jumped into the tux. I didn’t have a chance to unpack anything.”

“Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll just put most of this in the closet for you,” Derek suggested although he accompanied his words with a gentle push toward the bed.

“You’re a life saver, Derek. I’ll just brush my teeth and slip into my lounge pants and I’ll be ready to turn in,” Stiles agreed as he grabbed his toiletry bag. “I think I could sleep for twelve hours straight.”

Derek huffed out a laugh. “We’ll be late for Jeff’s if you sleep that long. How about I get you at Noon and we’ll grab something to eat and then head out together?”

Stiles was in the bathroom, wetting his toothbrush before he squirted toothpaste on it, as was his habit, when he agreed to the plan. “As long as we go somewhere that has pancakes.”

The water began running in earnest, which meant conversation was on hold. Picking the soft, flannel pants Stiles slept in out of the case, Derek was thinking about closing the suitcase and dumping it in the closet, as is, when the door beeped.

Derek turned as the door swung open and someone stepped into the room.

“Hey, buddy, you’ve got the wrong room,” Derek announced.

The someone was a guy, average height and broad shouldered, but Derek couldn’t make out his features in the dim lighting at the room entrance.

The guy looked at the keycard in his hand and then up at Derek. “You’re not the right guy.”

Before Derek could say anything else, the guy darted back out the door, pulling it tightly shut behind him. 

Derek ran to the door and whipped it open but the coast was clear, the exit door at the end of the hallway slowly swinging closed the only indication someone had been on the floor. 

Stiles came out of the bathroom, towel in hand, wiping his face. “Hey, where did you go? I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

Derek closed the door and paced into the room. “Some guy just used a keycard to enter your room.”

Swaying on his feet, Stiles leaned against the doorjamb. Derek was at his side in seconds, pulling him into a hug. Stiles mumbled into his chest, “Maybe it was a mix-up?”

_You’re not the right guy._

No, Derek didn’t think it was a mix-up. Tomorrow Derek would tell his friend more about his gut feelings but for now his priority was getting Stiles to safety. “We’ll sort this out tomorrow. For now why don’t you grab your toiletry bag, I’ll grab your suitcase and we’ll go to my room.”

Stiles pushed away from Derek’s chest. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Derek.”

It bugged Derek that Stiles wasn’t questioning, and fighting, what was going on. He was pliant and quiet and frankly his behavior was worrying. 

When Stiles returned from the bathroom, Derek ushered him into the hallway, sticking to his side.

Stiles stared at the door as it closed behind them. “If it wasn’t a mix-up then three’s a pattern.”

“Yeah, I think so too. But there’s nothing we can do about it tonight. Let’s get settled and we’ll figure things out tomorrow,” Derek suggested.

Nodding in agreement, the visibly exhausted Stiles remained glued to Derek’s side.

Derek planned to keep the younger man there until he could figure out what the hell was going on. 

-0-

Stiles had dropped into an exhausted sleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow but Derek had tossed and turned on the queen size bed; he didn’t know if that was because he was worried about Stiles or because Stiles was sharing his bed.

At some point Derek had developed feelings, more than just friends feelings, for Stiles but it had snuck up on him. Now he needed to figure out if this was something he needed to let Stiles know about or if he should bury these feelings so as to not rock the boat. He’d have to set that aside for now because his attention was needed elsewhere, namely on Jeff’s project meeting. And keeping Stiles safe and healthy.

They were just pulling into Jeff’s brick-paved driveway when Derek’s Bluetooth speakerphone began to ring. The disembodied woman announced the caller, “Pe-ter Hale calling.”

Derek sighed. “I’m thinking of not picking up. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” Stiles answered gently. “However, you might feel better if you just get it over with.”

“Fine,” Derek replied. “But I’m telling him you’re here with me.”

“That’s fine. I think I can withstand five minutes of grilling, even if the man seems to hate my guts for no reason,” Stiles fired back.

“Hi, Uncle Peter,” Derek answered the call from his steering wheel. “How are you?”

“Derek, I thought you were going to visit me today,” Derek’s uncle growled.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Peter. We had a last minute meeting. There’s a new project I’ve been asked to read for,” this wasn’t strictly true, the part was Derek’s if he wanted to participate, but his uncle didn’t need to know that. 

“You said we. Is that dreadful boy, Dylan O’Brien, with you?” Uncle Peter groused.

It was hard to bite back on the sigh that threatened to escape Derek’s mouth. He’d been over this so many times he’d lost count. His uncle’s memory was just fine but for some reason he enjoyed yanking Derek’s chain by ‘forgetting’ the difference between the actor and the character he played. “Dylan was just the character on the show, Uncle Peter. Stiles is the name of the actor, and my friend, and yes, that’s who is with me.”

Stiles piped up in that low voice that seemed at odds with his looks; unexpectedly smooth and deep. Sexy. Derek loved it. “Hello, sir. How have you been?”

“Hello, Stiles. Are you and my nephew having a good time while I’m cooped up in this hell hole?” Peter archly asked.

It wasn’t true, Peter was living at a place that catered to the wealthy who had been injured and needed assistance, all in the manner to which they’d been accustomed to their whole lives. It was a bit much as far as Derek was concerned but Peter could do whatever he wanted with his money.

Derek’s only nod to his own personal wealth was the two-story apartment unit he lived in which cost a pretty penny. He’d thought about buying a house but as an actor, he was on the go a lot and apartment living seemed easier. The Toyota they were riding in was nice but it certainly wasn’t flashy or super expensive.

Before Derek could ask his uncle to ease up, Stiles responded. “Oh no, sir. We’re going to visit the producer of a new project. We hope to visit you later in the week, that is if you don’t mind me paying you a visit?” 

Stiles turned that into a question, which was definitely the best way to deal with his demanding uncle—let Peter call the shots and he’d be happy.

“That’s more like it. I’ll expect you two no later than Thursday. I’ll ask Jennifer to see to our meal. We’ll have a lovely time,” Peter announced.

“That sounds great, Uncle Peter. We’re at our destination so I’m going to let you go. I’ll call later to arrange our visit,” Derek said.

“That’s fine, Derek. I’ll speak to you later,” Peter responded before terminating the call.

“That went more smoothly than I thought it would,” Derek announced.

“Yeah, I don’t think he really hates me. It’s that awful creature, Dylan, he can’t stand,” Stiles joked.

They exited the vehicle and approached Jeff’s house. Stiles elbowed Derek as they stood on the front step and rang the doorbell. “What all did Jeff tell you about this project of his?”

Derek smiled at Stiles whose excitement was infectious. “Not a whole lot, just that this is some sort of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ parody.”

The door was opened by none other than the master of ceremonies, Jeff Davis. “There you are, gentleman, finally. Come in!”

“So Derek said this is some sort of send up to _Fifty Shades of Grey_. What exactly were you thinking?” Stiles seemed to have some knowledge of the book while Derek had only known the little bit he’d picked up from conversations at work…at least until he’d Googled it this morning while Stiles was in the shower.

Jeff showed them into his first floor office. He pushed them onto a leather couch while he perched behind his imposing antique cherry wood desk. “Here’s a break down of what I had in mind,” Jeff explained, handing them each a sheaf of papers held together by a paper clip.

Derek skimmed through the information, chuckling at the cast of characters. He was going to play Darrel Snow and Stiles was cast as Steele. The fans were so used to the actors’ names that assigning the characters designations sharing the first letter was an easy way for them to keep track of who was who.

_Dramatis Personae_

_Derek = Darrel Snow_  
_Stiles = Steele_  
_Scott = Steve_  
_Allison = Alaina_  
_Lydia = Larissa_  
_Jackson = Jared_  
_Isaac = Ian_  
_Kira = Kara_  
_Malia = Maria_  


“I felt like I teased the Hobrien shippers really hard during the last two seasons of the show so I thought this short little project would serve as a thank you to the fans for sticking in there. The shoot should take less than a week. Why don’t you read the first scene and let me know if you’re interested.” Jeff was practically bouncing in his seat; it was a foregone conclusion that they would agree to this project but Jeff always enjoyed unveiling his work.

_Scene I_

_Larissa has arranged for her fried Steele to interview internationally renowned media king Darrel Snow in her stead because she has the stomach flu and can’t go herself. A young man in a red hoodie and brown corduroy jacket with glasses trips into the office for the interview. Darrel has to prompt Steele to tape the interview and he keeps getting distracted by the way Steele mouths his pen. At the conclusion of the interview Darrel asks if he can call Steele and the younger man confesses he lost his cell phone. Steele is flustered when he leaves. Darrel decides he’s going to send Steele a cell phone with only his number programmed in; he thinks Steele might make a good sub and wants to explore that idea further._

Derek felt his eyebrows climb high on his forehead. “You think the fans want to see Tyler and Dylan, I mean Darrel and Steel, in a kinky relationship?” Derek asked. He quickly realized it was a silly question when he thought of some of the gifts he and Stiles had received from fans during the years. Handcuffs. Jockstraps. Lacy underwear. Rope. “Never mind, I get it.”

Stiles snorted in laughter but when Derek turned to mock glare at him, the younger man quickly smoothed his expression into one of bland interest. Stiles was one hell of an actor.

Jeff cleared his throat. “If I haven’t scared you off, why don’t you glance at the rest of the scene summaries,” he invited.

_Scene II  
Darrel receives a call from a stranger on the phone he sent to Steele; it’s an acquaintance, Jared, aka Jackson, who doesn’t believe Steele knows Darrel. Darrel demands to know where Steele is and shows up at the bar. There Darrel meets Steele’s friends who show a full range of emotions about Stiles knowing Darrel from disbelief to jealousy to warning Darrel off. Darrel has enough of Jared’s posturing and putting Steele down so he throws Steele over his shoulder and marches out to the muscle car. Darrel takes Steele back to his place where he makes his offer about BDSM. Steele seems flattered but he’s a virgin and doesn’t think he’s good sub material. Darrel coaxes him into trying it by pinning Steele’s arms overhead and giving him a hot kiss.._

_Scene III  
Darrel and Steele talk about doing a scene. When Steele tries to touch Darrel, he gets rebuffed. They do a small scene that involves Steel being tied and spanked. Although it gets Steele all hot and bothered, he uses his safeword. Darrel is upset when Steele says he just doesn’t think he’s right for what Darrel wants as he’s interested in an emotional connection which is something Darrel doesn’t seem to be into. Steele kisses Darrel, taking the older man by surprise, before striding toward the door to leave. Darrel catches Steele’s arm and tugs him back, dipping him in a tight, steamy clinch. The end._

By the time Derek finished scanning the summaries, Stiles had already completed the reading and was giving Jeff a thumbs up. “Yeah, Jeff, this will be fun. If Derek’s in, count me in. What are you going to do about Scott and Allison’s scenes?”

“I’m going to film around them and then I’ll either edit them in or, I don’t know, maybe they’ll get their own scene. What I wrote was just some basics and since their characters aren’t the main focus, it shouldn’t affect things too much. How long are they gone for again?” Jeff asked.

“Originally it was a month but I think they’re going to extend it to either six weeks or maybe even eight. Since they’re not likely to get back any time soon with their busy schedules, they wanted to do it right,” Stiles explained.

“Well even without the honeymooners here, I’m in,” Derek interjected. “After all, I owe so much to you and the show.” He didn’t add that he treasured the idea of working with Stiles again. That could be his little secret for now although the way Jeff was eyeballing him, the writer/creator was well aware of his feelings.

“Neither one of you owes me anything, I might’ve given you a chance but you made the most of it. I’m really excited about this though. Having you both on board. And you know the drill by now. You’re working for peanuts and there’s homework,” Jeff announced, his smile turning toothy and shark-like. 

Stiles groaned. “Yeah, yeah. What kind of homework?”

“I think it would help if you did a little research regarding the BDSM community. Here are some books,” he handed three to Derek and two to Stiles, “and I’ve arranged for you to visit a BDSM club.”

Derek’s tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth and he had to work to unpeel it. Before he could ask for clarification, Stiles was leaning forward, looking intrigued. “Really? When and where?”

Stiles loved throwing himself into a part, no matter how large or how small. Apparently Derek would be accompanying him to a BDSM club regardless of his level of comfort.

Jeff hands them each a sheet of paper with the details. Derek realized they don’t have much time to make their appointment. “No time like the present, I guess.” 

Stiles jumped to his feet. “Can I use your bathroom? Then I’ll be ready to go.”

Accustomed to his habits, Jeff waved him out the door.

“Really? A BDSM club?” Derek stared Jeff down.

The older man smiled benignly. “It’ll be good for you. Both of you. Just keep Stiles close, okay?”

Odd. Although Jeff was always making odd comments and requests. “Of course.”

A knock at the office door interrupted them. Jeff smiled, waving the person in, “Come on in, Garrett, let me introduce you to someone.”

A lanky blond with a nice build and floppy blond hair entered the room. “Derek, this is Garrett, he’s my PA while Theo is on vacation,” Jeff finished the introduction without elaborating any more. The two men shook hands and murmured greetings and then the PA handed Jeff some papers.

“Here you go, Jeff. Is there anything else you need me to do?” the blond asked with a bit more enthusiasm than Derek expected, or liked. He was blandly handsome but his fake ass kissing was more than Derek could stomach. Derek had thought Theo was obsequious but this kid seemed to fawn even more. Jeff sure knew how to pick them.

The producer shuffled through the papers, barely paying any attention to his PA. “You can go to lunch, Garrett. Be back in an hour please.” The blond excused himself and Derek promptly forgot about him.

Stiles made his grand re-entrance. “I was thinking, Jeff. What do you think about renaming Darrel as Dom?”

Derek chuckled, “Would that make you Sub?”

“That sounds like a sandwich. I kind of like Steele. It has panache,” Stiles argued.

“We’d better get going if we want to make the club on time, Mr. Panache,” Derek teased.

That earned an eye roll from both Jeff and Stiles and Derek counted that as a win. 

This project was turning out to be fun, but then again with Stiles that was to be expected.

-0-

They passed by Sinister before pulling into the parking structure. It was a daunting name but Derek had to say, he liked the looks of the place. It had a classy looking brick exterior but he still found it intimidating. 

Stiles was chewing on a thumbnail when Derek turned off the Toyota’s ignition. “It’s pretty intimidating looking, isn’t it?”

Derek smiled; he and Stiles were on the same page yet again. “Yeah, it really is. I wonder if we’re going to stick out dressed like we are.”

They were both in jeans and button down shirts, Derek’s tucked in and Stiles’s worn over a t-shirt. They were pretty bland for a couple of guys entering a fetish club. 

Stiles swung his door open. “Come on, we have a date with Master Wolf. We’d best not keep him waiting.”

Derek followed suit although he was every bit as nervous as Stiles, which was crazy since they were just collecting data for their new project.

Tripping into the entrance because he was busy goggling at the marquee, Stiles practically ran into the man sitting on a high stool, flexing his muscles. Derek grabbed Stiles’s arm and pulled him back before the younger man caused himself damage; the other guy looked sturdy enough to withstand Stiles’s stumbling.

When Stiles was uncharacteristically silent, Derek addressed the man. “We have an appointment with Master Wolf.”

The man looked down at a clipboard sitting on his lap, looking bored. “Name?”

“Darrel Snow,” Derek remembered the name Jeff had written on the paper as the name the reservation was under. He had made the arrangements under their characters’ names. “And this is Steele.”

The man plucked his cell phone from where it was clipped to his belt. He pulled up a contact, texted something, and then looked back up. “Master Wolf is right inside and said you may join him.”

Derek felt like the maître d…host…bouncer...gatekeeper was passing judgment on them. Towing Stiles along, Derek pushed the doors until they were standing in a lobby with red velvet walls and carpeting.

“Darrel and Steele? I’m Deucalion Wolf. You may call me Duke. Let’s talk in my office,” the blond man invited. He shook their hands, first Derek’s with a strong but not break-your-hand grip, and then with Stiles; the man lingered a little over Stiles’s hand but the younger man was too busy staring around him to take umbrage. 

When Deucalion-you-may-call-me-Duke began walking down a hallway, Derek put his hand on Stiles’s low back and propelled him along.

The man they were following was wearing black leather pants but his burgundy top was a simple button down shirt although it looked like it was made of silk. Derek didn’t know exactly what he expected, but if not for the leather he would’ve said the other man was dressed in an understated fashion. Then again, what did Derek know about fetish clubs? Nothing. Hence his visit today.

Derek had to give it to Duke, he moved with a certain grace for an older man. Maybe like a panther, or a lion. He did have a certain leonine quality about him with his tousled blond hair although the blue-gray eyes sort of spoiled the effect. Lions had pale amber colored eyes. Stiles had shared that after an intense research session.

“Please, have a seat. What kind of questions do you have for me? I understand you’re doing research for a project,” Duke inquired politely. Derek couldn’t bring himself to call the man Master so he was grateful they had been offered the use of his first name. Derek wasn’t sure why because the man was being very courteous but there was just something a little bit off about him.

Stiles remained silent so Derek jumped in. “Yes, we’re supposed to portray a dominant and his submissive and we’re not familiar with the lifestyle.” 

“Do you know what aspect of fetish the project will be exploring? I could speak for hours on sadism & masochism but if that’s not the focus, I’m sure I can supply you with whatever information you need,” Duke smiled, his light colored eyes lighting up. 

Since Stiles showed no signs of joining the conversation, Derek plowed on. “There seemed to be some spanking and light bondage involved.”

“Yes, I can see where that would make a nice introduction to the lifestyle for mainstream fans. Would you like to see scenes featuring spanking and shibari?” The man offered.

“Shibari?” Stiles finally found his voice. He was always interested in learning about new things so it made perfect sense he would ask about something he didn’t recognize while Derek was content to learn at whatever pace, and whatever knowledge, their host doled out. 

“Yes, it’s also known as Kinbaku which means 'tight binding' or Kinbaku-bi which literally means 'the beauty of tight binding'. Kinbaku is a Japanese style of bondage, which involves tying up the bottom using simple yet visually intricate patterns, usually with several pieces of thin rope. The word Shibari came into common use in the West at some point in the 1990s to describe the bondage art Kinbaku. Shibari is a Japanese word that literally means "Decoratively Tie,” the blond explained patiently.

“And that’s the B in BDSM?” Stiles leaned forward, engaged in the discussion.

“Specially, bondage is consensually tying, binding, or restraining a partner for erotic, aesthetic, and/or somatosensory stimulation. Rope, cuffs, bondage tape and other restraints can be used for this purpose. The restrained partner can derive tactile pleasure from the feeling of helplessness and immobility, and the active partner can derive visual pleasure and satisfaction from seeing their partner tied up.” The man waited to see if Stiles had any follow up questions but Stiles was silent, a sign that he was processing, or as Derek thought of it, the wheels in his mind were spinning out of control. 

Duke let his gaze start at the top of Stiles’s head before slowly perusing down to his feet. He looked up, turning on a full wattage smile. “Tell me, Steele, has anyone ever tied you up?”

Stiles opened his mouth to reply but Derek cut in, not liking the way the man was eyeing his friend. “So you can show us examples of this binding?”

Smirking, Wolf stood up. “Sure, there’s a couple doing a demonstration right now in the red room. Follow me.”

Derek snagged the crook of Stiles’s elbow, keeping him by his side. They slowly walked by a room where a man was sitting in a chair, spanking a scantily clad woman bent over his lap with his bare hand. The sound of flesh on flesh made Derek jolt but warmth was pooling low in his belly; spanking was definitely a turn-on for him although he’d never tried it with a partner.

Duke kept them moving, escorting them into another room where a spotlight shown on two men, one kneeling on what looked like a padded sawhorse while the other man wound bits of satiny material around his body.

Was it arousing? Hell to the yeah. Derek could easily picture himself doing this to a partner. He even recognized some of the knots from his days as a teenager when he crewed on his sister’s sailboat. 

Thinking about his sister, dead these past five years, made him sad. Squeezing Stiles’s arm, Derek received a squeeze back. The young man by his side continued to help distract him from his pain even now. 

Once they settled in place, Derek glanced at Stiles who had his head tilted to the side, watching with great interest as the material was threaded between the kneeling man’s legs. Slithering over his cotton brief covered package. Stiles was gnawing lightly on his full lower lip, lost in thought.

Duke, who towered over both Derek and Stiles, leaned down and whispered in Stiles’s ear. “See something you like?”

Stiles shivered and flashed a nervous smile but he drifted closer to Derek, practically embedding himself in his side. Derek threw his arm around the younger man, drawing him closer.

Duke seemed to take the rebuff in stride and stepped back. At the conclusion of the demo, the audience clapped to show their appreciation.

Their host silently bade them out of the room, showing them back to his office. “That’s really the most basic of introductions but as I understand it, that’s all you needed. Did you have any questions?”

“If I wanted more information about rope work like we just saw, what would you recommend?” Derek voiced his question, realizing this was the perfect time to have his interest sated undercover of the project. 

“Just a moment, I have something for you,” Duke excused himself, walking into a back room that could either be a bathroom or a storage room of some kind. He returned bearing a paper bag. “Here’s something that I think you’ll find interesting.”

Derek took the bag, opening it up and peering inside. He saw a book and some lengths of soft looking rope wound together. “Thank you. What do I owe you?”

Duke waved him off. “Nothing at all. I’m happy to fuel your imagination and help you delve into this world. If you ever have more questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I put my card in the bag.”

This time it felt more organic to think of the other man as Master Wolf. He wasn’t seedy, he had taken time to answer questions and show them around, and seemed to be somewhat of a good will ambassador for the lifestyle. Derek could respect that. 

Putting his hand out, he gave the other man’s hand a shake and smiled. “Thank you so much for your time. We appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Darrel. You too, Steele,” the man’s eyes crinkled as he stared at Stiles and the younger man stepped back into Derek’s personal space. “Let me show you out.”

Derek appreciated the man’s insight but he didn’t appreciate his interest in Stiles.

-0-

Derek emerged from his office space downstairs, having finished some of the recommended reading as well as seeking out more and voraciously consuming those words, too.

He’d even rearranged his office a bit, making room on a shelf for some of the items Master Wolf had given him. He rearranged the furniture, making space in the middle of the room for…scenes.

“Derek?” Stiles called from the stairwell. “Can I come down?”

“Yeah, sure.” Derek didn’t have anything to hide. 

As Stiles came down the stairs, Derek asked about his reading assignment. “Did you learn anything from your assigned reading?”

The lighting wasn’t the greatest but Derek thought Stiles blushed. His cheeks were bright pink and his stare moved around, refusing to light on Derek for very long. “It was, um, yeah. I might,” Stiles swallowed, pausing, before starting again, “soImightbeintothiskindofthing.”

Derek had to parse that out. Stiles might be into BDSM? “What exactly caught your attention?”

It wouldn’t do to make assumptions. Derek thought at the club Stiles had been a little clingy, had leaned on Derek, maybe deferred to him. Before that Derek would never had guessed Stiles had a submissive bone in his body but that had made him think. Especially when he was reading about Doms and subs and ropes and scenes. How Derek maybe wanted to do things to Stiles.

How those thoughts had made Derek more than a little hot and bothered.

Stiles looked equally hot and bothered. Derek grabbed his hand. “Come on, let’s talk in here.” He pulled Derek back into the office.

Hands thrust deep into his pockets, Stiles shrugged. “I liked some of what I read. I liked it a lot.”

“Yeah, I did too. Here’s the thing, I like the idea of doing things to someone, being the one in control. What were you thinking when you were doing your reading?” Derek figured he might as well put it out there now. If they weren’t compatible that was okay. They were still friends.

Stiles’s head snapped up. “Yes!”

“Yes?” Derek didn’t know what Stiles was agreeing to here.

“Yes, I liked what I read. I want you to do things to me. I mean I think I’m more sub than Dom. Do you know what I mean?” Stiles asked, teeth gnawing at his lip like he always did when he was nervous.

“Stiles, let me be blunt. I can’t stop thinking about dominating you. I want to tie you up. This maybe started out as research but I think I want to explore it. With you. Do you want the same?” Derek wasn’t sure what to expect. 

It certainly wasn’t Stiles’s fervent reply. “God, yes. Now?”

“You don’t need to think about it?” Derek pressed, wanting to make sure they were on the same page.

“I’d rather not wait. I mean we have our first scene tomorrow. Filming scene that is, and I thought it might be good if we, you know, have some practical experience, too.” Derek’s heart dropped a little.

“Oh, you just want to try some stuff out for Jeff’s project?” Derek didn’t really want to know the answer but he was already committed to this conversation.

“What? No. I mean yes, it might be helpful. But I think I want you to tie me up. I trust you. I think I have feelings for you. I just don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Stiles passionately declared.

His heart lightened at Stiles’s words. “I have something we can try. It’s not too risqué and you can keep your clothing on, too.” Derek had thought some of the knot work he’d picked up sailing during the summers when he was a teenager would finally pay off. He’d studied some of the bondage pictures and read the instructions and he thought he could pull off the restricted leg ladder without too much trouble.

“I’m in!” Stiles chirped. “Where do you want me?”

Derek had a hard time imagining Stiles achieving subspace but then again he’d never thought Stiles would turn to him for protection at the club. Maybe it was just a matter of putting Stiles in the right mindset. 

“Let me grab the rope. You stand in the middle here,” Derek touched Stiles’s shoulders, lightly squeezing, before jetting off to grab the coveted rope he’d been given.

Derek, rope in hand, detoured to the mini fridge for water before he went to the desk. Setting down the bottle of water, he flipped open the book to the bookmarked page. He stared at the steps until he felt he was comfortable with them. 

Dropping to his knees on the rug, he looked up at Stiles who stood relaxed before him in a white t-shirt and khaki shorts. There was a telltale bulge at Stiles’s crotch but Derek knew he was sporting the same. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, Derek folded the rope, a 30-foot length, in half and made a loop around Stiles’s waist, creating a lark’s head cuff with a front anchor point. With both tails he pulled straight down to mid thigh where he created an L with the rope, drawing the tails on the outside of both legs so that they ended at the original starting point. 

Derek took a moment to nestle the ropes under the crease of Stiles’s butt. Stiles redistributed his weight and sighed but he didn’t object.

He needed to create a cinch for the double column so he crossed the midline with the tails, pulling them both through and down. He patted Stiles’s hips reassuringly before threading them between Stiles’s thighs. 

When he pulled the tails upward he made sure they were snug. He also made sure they lay nestled tightly between Stiles’s butt crack. 

Derek expected Stiles to make a crack, pun intended, about the rope wedgie but he remained silent. Glancing up at Stiles’s face, Derek was pleased to see the younger man seemed at ease as he stared into the distance. The actor was probably running lines in his head, not even paying attention to what Derek was doing.

Derek fed the tails behind the back bands before pulling them back down. It was time to pull the rope tails taut and then pull them through Stiles’s leg so they were in the front at the cinch. Derek’s eyes were level with Stiles’s groin so he couldn’t help but notice the younger man’s cock had thickened. Stiles’s mind might not be paying attention to Derek but his body was on alert. If Derek adjusted his own package it was just a reaction to the proximity of the attractive body he was binding.

The last step was to cross the rope tails up over the cinch and underneath the midline before pulling them straight down. 

Taking a deep breath, Derek began the next ladder. A little above the knee he made the next L, pulled the tails around both legs, tucked them underneath the midline, crossed the midline and then pulled the tails through. The tails were pulled between Stiles’s legs, around the back bands, which at this level were above the knee, before dropping them down and threading them between the legs were they came out in front. The tails were brought up underneath the midline and straight down.

Derek had to tie another 30-foot length of rope, which he quickly executed. The next L was made at mid calf. His fingers pretty much did the work without thought now. Wrap around the legs, tucked underneath the midline, crossed the midline and pulled down. Thread between the legs, feed over the back bands, pull back down between the legs. Cross the midline and pull through. The rhythm was relaxing although Derek’s body buzzed with excitement. The ladder might not be as straight as the one he’d seen on the tutorial video and in the book but it wasn’t bad.

The last ladder was completed at ankle height. He tied it off and reached for his cell phone. He had just snapped a few pictures of his handiwork when Stiles’s body shuddered.

Derek jumped to his feet, his ears ringing as his blood redistributed itself. “Stiles, you okay?”

Stiles’s face was flushed and his eyes drooped at half-mast. He cleared his throat before whispering, “Kinda dizzy. Can I sit down?”

Derek braced an arm behind Stiles’s back, alarmed at the way the younger man slurred his words. He hooked the desk chair with his foot, drawing it behind Stiles. 

It was not a moment too soon as Stiles’s weight sagged and Derek guided him into the chair.

Stiles’s head flopped back, tilted over the back of the chair. Derek didn’t know if he should cut the ropes or grab the bottle of water on the desk.

“Stiles, buddy, you okay?” Derek chafed Stiles’s wrist, which was cool to the touch. He tried to take his pulse but it was hard to read as it banged around as fast as Derek’s own adrenaline-fueled pulse.

Derek cupped Stiles’s cheek. “Hey, Stiles. Talk to me.”

The younger man blinked slowly, staring up at Derek. His pupils were blown wide, only a thin ring of that pretty brown was visible as the black ate up most of the space.

Stiles’s responses were slow. His pupils were dilated. He couldn’t seem to answer Derek. If Derek didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Stiles was stoned.

Oh.

Could this be subspace? It’s not like sex had been involved. Although from what he’d read, an orgasm was a completely different biological reaction and you couldn’t have an O at the same time you were in the subspace trance.

Derek grabbed the bottle of water, uncapping it before holding it to Stiles’s lips. Stiles didn’t make an effort to take the water until Derek cupped the back of his neck and poured some of the liquid into his mouth.

Stiles blinked slowly and Derek watched as his eyes became more focused. He licked a drop of water clinging to his upper lip. “That was…wow.”

“Definitely wow. For me, too. Let me get you out of this leg ladder binding,” Derek said, leaning over to work at the knots. 

“Oh,” Stiles said, sounding subdued.

Derek looked up to find Stiles staring at Derek’s fingers, pouting. “You don’t want me to untie you?”

“I don’t know? I mean I guess I can’t stay like this forever. I suppose you might as well cut me loose,” Stiles grumbled.

“Stiles, do you think you might want to do more of this? With me?” Derek broached the subject that had been on his mind since their visit to the club. 

“You mean the whole Dom-sub thing? Or dating?” Stiles queried.

“The whole enchilada. With you. If that’s what you want too,” Derek sputtered out. He wasn’t very eloquent but he must’ve said something right because Stiles melted against him, his arms around Derek, hugging him tight.

‘Yes, please. To both. Out of respect for Heather, can we not put this out there yet? I mean I want the world to know we’re together but I don’t want to rub her face in this, if you know what I mean,” Stiles explained.

Derek wasn’t a fan of keeping relationships on the down low but he didn’t want to hurt the other woman, or his ex-girlfriend for that matter. “Yeah, although I can’t promise people aren’t going to pick up on it. I can’t keep my eyes, or my hands, off of you.” He punctuated that by rubbing his hands down Stiles’s ribs, seeking out the spots that were sensitive, tickling him.

Stiles drew back, glaring. “If you tickle me again, I’m going to have to call this whole thing off.”

“Blackmail already? I guess I can agree to that. Now hold still while I un-ladder you,” Derek said, cupping Stiles’s cheek in his palm. He really couldn’t keep his hands off of the younger man.

When had that happened? Derek was pretty sure it had been motion for a long time now but he wasn’t going to question anything.

He had a good thing going and he didn’t want to jinx it.

-0-

Stiles was loose and relaxed on set. It was a marked change from the previous day, and at the wedding before that, when Stiles had been a tense ball of stress. 

Before their visit to the club. 

Before they’d done a little experimentation. 

Before they’d decided to give a relationship together a shot.

The combination of getting some decent rest, food, and tied up had worked that magic, at least in Derek’s opinion. Since Derek had played a part in supplying Stiles with all three he was feeling pretty content himself. 

Today was the first day of filming and they were tackling the introductory meeting between Darrel and Steele in the office. The one where Steele, the free spirited, innocent submissive caught the eye of hardened, seasoned, Dominant Darrel.

Darrel had just invited Steele to sit down and start the interview and Steele began twirling a pencil in his long, slim fingers when something caught his—Stiles’s—attention and he dropped the writing utensil. Derek saw the moment Stiles’s eyes widened and he gasped. 

Stiles’s was always in the moment as an actor. Derek could think of only one occasion when Stiles had broken character and that had been at the tail end of a scene in which Stiles’s character, Dylan, was ‘slapping’ Derek’s character, Tyler; Stiles’ palm actually connected with Derek’s cheek with a resounding smack. Derek had tried to remain in character but when laughter bubbled out, Stiles had joined in.

To see Stiles lose focus in the middle of a scene, at the beginning of a shoot, was beyond weird.

Stiles, as Steele, quickly refocused and scooped the pencil up without missing a beat before pursing his lips to blow on it. He followed that up by inserting the pencil in his mouth and letting his oral fixation have free rein.

Thankfully Darrel was supposed to be infatuated with Steele because Derek was thoroughly smitten. His cock was filling rapidly, tenting the wool blend trousers tailored to fit him like a second skin. 

The scene ran to its conclusion and Derek knew it wouldn’t require a second take. The director yelled ‘cut’ and Stiles jumped to his feet, pencil clenched in his hand, as he darted off set.

“Stiles?” Derek called, not wanting to let his friend out of sight.

Stiles darted ahead, maneuvering through the people on set like a car weaving through the traffic, only stopping when he came to a dead end.

“Stiles? What did you see?” Derek called out, not wanting to startle the younger man.

Stiles turned around, eyebrows flexed in confusion. “I thought I saw the guy from the pictures.”

Derek quickly connected the dots. “The pictures that were sent to Heather?”

“Yeah. The guy looked like a surfer dude. Floppy blond hair, big blue eyes, nice build. He was standing in my line of sight, over your shoulder, and he blew me a kiss.” The more Stiles explained the more his confusion turned into anxiety, the color washing out of his skin despite the make-up for the scene.

Derek circled Stiles’s biceps loosely with his hand. He needed the contact and he wanted to make sure if Stiles got too shaky, he was within reach to catch him. “Come on, let’s get you something to drink from craft service.”

Ignoring the stares, Derek escorted Stiles to the table where the food and drinks were laid out. Derek found what he was looking for—Barq’s Root Beer. Most everyone on the set thought the drink had too much carbonation and was too tangy but Stiles love the stuff and everyone left the cans alone for his consumption.

Derek cracked the can open, holding it away from his body to avoid any spray from the carbonized pressure, but it barely produced a fizzling sound. He pressed the can into Stiles’s hand. “Have some of this. It should make you feel better.”

Stiles took a sip and made a face. “It’s kind of flat.”

“Drink up anyway,” Derek urged. The sugar and caffeine—this root beer was one of the few with caffeine—should help stabilize Stiles’s shakiness. At least that was the hope. 

Stiles drained the can and handed it back to Derek. Derek turned and fired the can into the container next to the table for recyclables. “Two points,” Derek crowed, a smile broadening across his face.

He turned to Stiles to bask in the accolades for his achievement to find Stiles clutching his stomach. “Derek,” he groaned, swallowing convulsively, “I don’t feel good.”

The words were barely out of Stiles’s mouth before he swayed and then crumpled. Derek barely got an arm braced around the younger man’s back, halting his descent to the floor. “Stiles!”

Jeff was already at his elbow, snapping out instructions. “What happened?” the head of production demanded once people scattered to do his bidding, including summoning an ambulance.

Derek threaded his other arm behind Stiles’s knees and hoisted him into his arms. He kept expecting the younger man to open his eyes and insist he was just fine, everything was fine, it was just a joke. Stiles’s eyes remained stubbornly closed and the limp weight in Derek’s arms told him this was no joke.

Stiles thought he’d seen the guy who had played a part in sabotaging his relationship with Heather. Then Stiles drank a can of root beer, the kind only he drank on set.

A can that was suspiciously flat.

They had sprinted well past _Three was a Coincidence_ and had moved on to scarier territory. Someone was after his friend.

“Jeff, I think someone is stalking Stiles. Or worse. He’s not safe.” Derek blurted out.

Jeff looked stunned but he didn’t tell Derek he was full of shit. “You need to tell me everything.” A gurney on wheels squeaked through the crowd milling around the area and soon Stiles was being settled on it.

Touching Derek’s arm, he suggested, “Why don’t you ride with Stiles. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

That was an excellent plan since Derek wasn’t going to leave Stiles’s side until someone managed to pry him away.

-0-

A crowbar hadn’t been needed to pry Derek away from Stiles’s side, just some common sense and a five-foot-nothing feisty nurse who barred him from the cubicle while they ran some tests. 

Relegated to the waiting room, Derek stood up and paced around. Again. The hard, uncomfortable chairs never seemed to vary from ER to ER. 

Jeff cleared his throat. “So let me run through the chain of events. Someone sent Heather pictures of Stiles in a compromising position. With another guy.”

Dropping down into the chair next to Jeff, Derek nodded in the affirmative.

“Stiles was then violently ill and ended up at an ER, dehydrated, and almost missed the wedding.”

“Yep,” Derek popped his P in homage to Stiles’s character Dylan.

“Then someone let themself into Stiles’s hotel room only they were scared away when Stiles wasn’t alone,” Jeff continued to recount the events leading up until now.

Derek interjected, “Yeah, and the creep said something like ‘you’re not the right guy’ before he pulled a disappearing act.”

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Jeff continued. “Then during filming today, Stiles sees someone who he thinks was the guy in the pictures. He then collapses after drinking the one beverage on the craft service table that only he drinks.”

Biting his lip, Derek concurred, “That’s about the size of it.”

“Did Stiles say what this guy looks like?” Jeff continued to puzzle things out.

“Floppy blond hair, blue eyes, nice build…like a surfer dude. Unfortunately that description kind of matches a good chunk of the population in Hollywood.” Derek sighed in frustration.

Jeff pulled out his cell phone and punched a contact. “Yeah, Christian, I need a favor. Can you get the Barq’s Root Beer can out of the recycling container, put it in a bag, and keep it safe? I want to have some tests run on it.” 

Pausing while he listened to his head writer, Jeff then clarified, “Yes, exactly. Try not to get your fingerprints on it. I think it was tampered with and if we’re lucky we can get some fingerprints off of it.” 

Derek couldn’t hear Christian’s actual response but he could hear his loud, agitated voice. Jeff pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment with a grimace. When Christian fell silent, Jeff continued, “Yes, exactly. I do suspect foul play but while we’re waiting here for news about Stiles, I figured this was something concrete we could do.”

Christian responded and then Jeff thanked him before slipping his phone back into this pocket. “Christian is a bit freaked out.”

“Christian isn’t the only one.” Derek squeezed Jeff’s sturdy forearm. “Jeff, what if Stiles doesn’t…” he couldn’t complete the thought.

Jeff yanked Derek into a hug, which was awkward to achieve since they were sitting side by side. “You can’t think that way. Stiles is one tough cookie. He’s going to be okay.”

A nurse emerged from the locked door leading to the treatment area and Derek recognized her as the little dynamo who had booted him out of Stiles’s cubicle. “You two can come back now.”

Before Derek could open his mouth, Jeff blurted out, “How is he? Is he okay?”

So much for the other man being calm, cool and collected. He was just as freaked out as Derek.

Both men had to hustle to keep up with the nurse. She let them into the cubicle while answering, “He’s much better now that we’ve finished—”

“They pumped my stomach!” Stiles wailed, cutting off the nurse. He was sitting on the edge of the exam table, fully clothed, arms folded across his chest.

“As you can see, Mr. Stilinski is feeling much better. For the record,” the nurse gave Stiles’s the side-eye, which made the younger man huff, “we didn’t pump his stomach, we administered an activated charcoal which he tolerated well.”

“Yeah, if tolerating well means vomiting the black goo up. That shit is gritty and as disgusting coming up as it was going down.” He shuddered theatrically.

The nurse, Lindsay, rolled her eyes. She turned her attention solely on Stiles. “Your blood gases are stable and we’re sending samples on to toxicology to isolate the poison but for now, you’re free to go. If you suffer from dizziness, nausea or vomiting please wait until I’m off shift to come back and get checked out.” 

Derek smiled at the woman’s antics. She was the perfect match for his headstrong friend. 

Lindsay handed Stiles his discharge instructions, “It’s been a delight treating you, Stiles.” She had the audacity to ruffle Stiles’s hair on her wait out the door, smiling widely when he squawked in indignation.

“It sounds like you’re free to go. Do you feel up to it?” Jeff asked, assessing Stiles through narrowed eyes.

Stiles slid off of the exam table and Derek moved quickly to his side in case he passed out. Stiles didn’t seem to be having any issues and in fact looked perky. “Just try to keep me here any longer. I don’t want Nurse Ratched to have another go at me,” Stiles said in response.

The three mean walked at a more sedate pace, exiting the locked unit. Jeff pointed to two chairs. “I want you two to sit down while I pull the car around.” There was that note of authority Jeff invoked rarely that had both men doing his bidding without argument.

Once Jeff left, Derek grabbed Stiles’s hand. “Are you really okay?”

Stiles’s face creased into a lopsided smile. “I really am okay. It was a bit scary and I didn’t enjoy tossing my cookies but I feel so much better now.”

Derek could see Stiles meant it; the younger man had a sparkle back in his eyes and his cheeks were flushed with healthy color. Most importantly, he was conscious and talking instead of doing his impression of a limp noodle.

The phone in Derek’s pocket gave a sharp, decisive ping, announcing an incoming text from his agent. He withdrew his phone and saw the reminder about the movie premiere he was supposed to be attending that evening. “Crap.”

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked softly, voice concerned.

“I’m supposed to attend that movie premiere tonight but I’ll have to cancel, I’m not leaving you alone,” Derek stated.

Those full, pouty lips flattened into a straight line. “I think I can manage by myself for one evening. You need to go,” Stiles announced, arms folding defensively over his chest.

“What’s going on?” Jeff asked as he rejoined them. “Come on out to the car and tell me about whatever it is that’s got you both in a mood.”

They both kept silent until they were both ensconced in the backseat of Jeff’s Cadillac Escalade. 

“Well?” Jeff prompted.

“I’m supposed to go to that movie premiere tonight but I’m not leaving Stiles alone.” Derek decreed.

Stiles piped up. “I’m not letting Derek miss this, not for one evening. It’s important for his career.” 

“Stiles, would you be willing to stay at my house with my assistant, Garrett, this evening? I have a meeting but I should only be gone for three hours. Derek, you’re welcome to spend the night and that way you two will be under the same room,” Jeff proposed.

Derek couldn’t argue with the logic behind Jeff’s suggestion. He also couldn’t say no to the pretty brown eyes staring at him. “I can’t say as I’m comfortable in leaving Stiles but I suppose it’s a workable solution.”

Stiles grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks. I’ll just hang out until you get there and then we can turn in.” Stiles’s voice had dropped into a lower register and that coupled with his tone made his words sound sexually suggestive.

Shooting a glance at the driver’s seat, Derek’s eyes met Jeff’s in the rearview mirror; Jeff’s eyebrows arched high on his forehead but he kept silent.

“I guess we can work with that,” Derek grumbled only the grumble was equally suggestive.

Derek’s face heated up as a blush bloomed across his face and down the back of his neck. 

Stiles was still his friend but he was so much more. Derek wasn’t going to try to hide it.

Maybe tonight they could talk a little bit about where this relationship might be going. The wheels were already spinning in Derek’s head.

Derek realized they were still holding hands and he gave a return squeeze to let Stiles know he was thinking of him.

This was going to be a long night 

-0-

The night was just as long as Derek had predicted, only not for the reasons he had thought.

Having just tipped the valet who had brought his Toyota around, Derek slid into the driver’s seat when his cell phone went off with Jeff’s ringtone. “What’s up? I’m on my way to your house now.”

“Derek, have you heard from Stiles?” Jeff’s tone was demanding.

Derek glanced at the clock on his dashboard. “I had a text from earlier saying he was going to shower and then lay down for a nap. Why?”

Jeff snapped, “Did it say anything else?”

Acid churned in Derek’s gut. “Just that I should wake him when I got back. Why? What’s going on?” Derek was trying hard to retain his composure.

Silence met his question. “Jeff!” Derek barked.

“I just got back and he’s not here. Neither is Garrett. Stiles doesn’t have his phone on him and Garrett isn’t answering his. There’s no note. Derek, I don’t like this.” Jeff did not resemble the in-charge man Derek was accustomed to dealing with.

“Call the police. Now. Stiles wouldn’t do this, he knows how worried we are about him. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you two,” Derek ground out. He knew he was being short but he had two objectives—get to Jeff’s and find Stiles. He didn’t have the energy for niceties. 

Derek roared out of the parking structure, his foot pushing steadily on the gas pedal. 

-0-

Derek slammed through the front door of Jeff’s house without knocking, without pausing. He almost knocked the smaller man to the ground because Jeff was hovering in the tiled entrance way.

“Finally. I’ve been pulling my hair trying to figure this out. Whoever is after Stiles has to be on the inside. The set was closed so it was one of our crew. Here’s a list of who was there,” Jeff said, thrusting a paper into Derek’s hand as he combed a hand nervously through his disheveled hair.

Derek’s eyes were already scanning the list as he asked, “Did you call the police?”

“Yeah, of course. They should be here any minute,” Jeff sighed out.

The people on the list were all familiar to Derek. They’d worked on the show, many since the premiere. They were like family. Even the craft service staff were familiar.

At the bottom of the list was a name Derek didn’t remember and he pointed to it as he shoved the paper toward Jeff. “Who is this?”

“Garrett Collins. My temporary PA. You met him when you and Stiles were over here to talk about the project,” Jeff explained.

Blond, floppy haired, looked like a surfer. He matched both Stiles’s description of the guy in the pictures as well as the guy who had broken into Stiles’s room at the hotel.

“How long have you known Collins? How long has he worked for you?” Derek wasn’t nearly as intuitive as Stiles or Jeff, but this guy definitely had access to Stiles at both the shoot and tonight.

Jeff crumpled the paper in his hand. “I hired him two weeks ago, specifically for this project. Theo had already scheduled vacation and although he offered, I didn’t want him to have to change his plans. Theo is the one who told me about Garrett but I don’t know how long he’s known him. I only met him two weeks ago, he seemed like he could do the job and passed the background check so I hired him,” Jeff’s voice continued to rise as he shared everything he knew.

The doorbell rang, startling both men. Jeff reached behind Derek and opened the door. A tall, fit man and petite woman stood on the doorstep. “I’m Detective Clarke and this is Detective Parrish. We’re here about the person you reported missing,” the brunette woman explained as she flashed her badge. 

Jeff waved both detectives inside. “I’m Jeff Davis and this is Derek Hale. Please, follow me,” he said, escorting everyone into the front parlor.

Clarke sat on a loveseat and Jeff sat across from her in a leather armchair. Parrish stood, strong and silent, behind Clarke, and Derek mimicked his stance, standing at Jeff’s back; he was too wired to sit down at the moment.

Why were they sitting around? They needed to find Stiles!

The woman detective cleared her throat. “So tell me why you think Mr. Stilinski is missing,” she invited. Both detectives took small pads of paper and pens out of their jackets and were poised to write any information they gathered.

Jeff launched right into the explanation, his pace picking up speed until his words poured out in a rush. “Some things happened to Stiles previous to today that we think are linked to his disappearance. On Thursday night someone sent falsified pictures of Stiles in a compromising position with another man to his girlfriend, Heather. She kicked Stiles out of the apartment they shared and Stiles ended up in the hospital that same night with a case of food poisoning. Stiles was the best man for Scott McCall’s wedding but he missed the Rehearsal Dinner on Friday night and almost missed the wedding on Saturday.”

Jeff paused to gulp to draw in a breath and Derek jumped in, picking up where he left off. “After the wedding someone used a keycard to access Stiles’s hotel room. I happened to be there in his room but the lighting was bad and I couldn’t see him. I chased after this guy but he disappeared. This afternoon while taping, Stiles thought he saw the guy from the pictures at the shoot. Stiles had a bad reaction after drinking some soda on set and he ended up have his stomach pumped at Cedars Sinai Samaritan. Jeff and I both had obligations tonight so Stiles was going to stay here with Jeff’s temporary personal assistant, Garrett Collins. We think Collins has Stiles.”

Parrish spoke for the first time, his voice low and measured. “Why do you think Collins has him?”

Derek grimaced. “I don’t know why he’s doing this but Collins matches the description of the guy in the pictures. He also had access to the set this afternoon and he was supposed to stay here this evening with Stiles. Who is missing.” Derek’s hands were shaking and he folded them around his middle to still them.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen the pictures sent to Mr. Stilinski’s girlfriend?” Clarke interjected.

Jeff slapped his forehead, standing up. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and waded through his contacts, finally selecting one. “Heather, yes, this is Jeff Davis. We have a situation here and I need your help.”

Pausing to let Heather speak, Jeff then continued. “I know this is traumatic for you but I need you to forward the pictures you received showing Stiles with someone else.”

Derek willed Heather to put aside her hurt feelings and comply. Instead he could hear her raised voice as Jeff pulled his phone away from his ear.

Parrish interceded, plucking the phone from Jeff’s hand. “Heather, this is Detective Parrish with the LAPD. We think something has happened to Stiles and it’s somehow tied to those pictures. I’m going to give you my cell phone number. I would appreciate it if you would cooperate with our investigation and forward them to me.”

The detective recited his phone number and thanked the woman on the line for her assistance before ending the call. He handed the phone back to Jeff with a sheepish expression. “Sorry, it seemed like she was winding up to pitch a fit.”

Jeff waved him off, tucking his phone away. Parrish withdrew his own phone and seconds later it pinged a notification. The detective opened up the text and turned it so both Jeff and Derek could see it. “Does he look familiar to either one of you?”

Derek stared hard at the picture. In it Stiles was lying down, twisted on his side, his white t-shirt rucked up and exposing the slim indent of his waist and smooth, pale skin. A blond guy was behind him, arm curled possessively around the small waist, fingers splayed across exposed skin. 

The still was from a publicity shot done for Teen Wolf, but it had been deemed too racy and never released. In the original, untouched version, Lydia’s character, Holland, was curled behind Stiles’s character, Dylan. Even though they were both clothed, the powers that be at MTV had nixed it.

The face of the guy replacing Lydia was obscured but the side part on the blond hair seemed to fit Garrett’s hairstyle.

Jeff clutched at the phone. “That’s Garrett. At least I think it is. Look at the watch…it’s just like the one Garrett wears.” He held the phone back toward Derek, Parrish and Clarke who all crowded around it.

Parrish scrunched his face in a frown. “How can you tell?”

“That’s a Bylgari Diagono Chronograph. It’s huge with rappers and pop musicians. It has a scratch-resistant sapphire crystal front, rubberized black bezel, stainless steel links, and a strap made of durable rubber,” Jeff explained. “Garrett has one and I couldn’t figure out why a kid who needed a job could afford a $17,000 Bylgari.”

Both Clarke and Parrish quirked an eyebrow and stared at Jeff but they didn’t question his knowledge.

Derek knew Jeff had a weakness for watches…and sports cars. He believed Jeff could recognize someone by the watch they wore.

Parrish took one last look before tucking his phone away. “So we don’t know the means and motive but Garrett Collins certainly had opportunity.”

Clarke broke in, “Just a quick clarification, wouldn’t Mr. Stilinski have recognized this Collins person and said something?” 

“Stiles was out of the room when I met Collins the other day,” Derek answered.

“Tonight I was leaving when Garrett arrived and Stiles was in the shower so I didn’t have an opportunity to introduce them. I made sure I was here until Garrett arrived but I was running late so I left,” Jeff seemed to feel he had to justify not being around when Stiles met Collins.

Derek wanted to say something—he hadn’t wanted to leave Stiles this evening but Jeff had assured them Stiles would be safe—but he could see Jeff was miserable at the thought he’d allowed Collins near Stiles so he kept his mouth shut. I-told-you-so’s weren’t going to help Stiles.

“Could you please show us to the room Stiles is staying in?” Parrish requested. At least he used the present tense. That meant there was hope, at least in Derek’s mind.

Jeff showed him upstairs but Derek elected to stay in the parlor. Clarke looked like she had an idea she was thinking over and Derek wanted to help her if he could.

Returning from upstairs, Jeff was greeted by a question from Clarke. “Do you have a resume, application, W-4, or something on file with Collins’s address or other information?”

Jeff hustled to his office. “Right this way.” He dug into a filing cabinet behind his massive cherry wood desk. He pulled out a manila folder and thrust it into Clarke’s hands. “Here, this is Garrett’s.”

The detective set the folder down on Jeff’s desk and scanned the papers it held. “Garrett lists his sister, Violet Collins, as his emergency contact. Did you ever meet Violet?”

Jeff shook his head no. “Garrett said it was Violet who dropped him off on his first day here but I only saw dark hair as the convertible pulled away.”

Clarke queried, “Do you remember what kind of convertible?”

“It was a light green Porsche Spider,” Jeff responded. “The license plate read O-R-F-N 4-H-R. I was trying to figure out what orphan for hour meant.”

“Maybe it means it orphan for hire? Although I still don’t know what that would mean, “Clarke suggested.

Parrish appeared in the doorway. “Any luck?”

“Collins’s sister Violet is listed as his emergency contact. They supposedly live at the same address which I have here,” Clarke said, smacking the manila folder in her hand, “and I have a license plate we can run. How about you?”

Derek’s attention switched to the male detective who was frowning again. “The room Mr. Stilinski is using looks clean. Except for a glass of liquid that seems to have been knocked over. I’ve collected it for testing,” he said.

“What are you thinking, GHB?” Clarke questioned.

“The date rape drug?” Derek yelped. This just kept getting worse and worse.

Parrish squeezed Derek’s shoulder. “We just don’t have enough information at the moment but thanks to you both, we’re going to start tracking down Garrett and Violet Collins. It’s definitely a starting point.”

“What should we do?” Jeff asked.

“Hang in there while we check things out. We’ll keep you up to date,” Clarke advised.

“If either Garrett or Violet get in touch with you, don’t do anything. Just let us know. If they are involved in this we don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire,” Parrish added.

Derek didn’t respond. He didn’t think he could stay on the sidelines because he would do anything to have Stiles back. 

-0-

Jeff and Derek took turns pacing around Jeff’s office, which they had turned into some sort of command central. Parrish and Clarke had kept their word and texted or called with updates but so far nothing had panned out.

The detectives hadn’t been able to get a judge to sign off on probable cause to get access to recent text messages on either Garrett’s or his sister’s cell phones and the texts older than 180 days that they could view without a warrant weren’t relevant.

“What about Danny? Do you think he’d help us?” Derek voiced the question that had been circling around in his mind since the news the detectives couldn’t get their hands on any recent text messages had come through.

Danny Māhealani had portrayed Keahu Kahuanui, a techno wiz, on Teen Wolf as a recurring character. Danny shared many of the same amazing skills as his character, like how to track the location of a cell phone through its GPS and view text messages...all without benefit of a warrant or subpoena.

“Parrish and Clarke won’t like it,” Jeff responded with a soft sigh but Derek could tell he was on board with the idea.

“I don’t care if they can’t make a case against Garrett, we’ll deal with that later if it happens. I just want Stiles back,” Derek stated.

Retrieving his phone from his pocket, Jeff quickly thumbed a text.

Derek drummed his fingers on the desktop impatiently.

Jeff chewed his thumbnail.

Both men jumped when an answering text pinged. A smile broke across Jeff’s face. “Danny will do it. I’m sending the info now.” He quickly keyed in names, phone numbers and addresses so Danny could work his magic. Fortunately Jeff was a packrat—he’d given the police the folder with Garrett’s documents but he’d already scanned them into his computer so they still had access to the information.

It had been twelve hours since Jeff had arrived home to find Stiles, and Garrett, missing. Twelve hours in which this freak, or some other freak, could be doing anything to Stiles.

Derek had always felt very protective of Stiles. The two of them and Scott had shared an apartment the first season of Teen Wolf and Stiles had proven to be some sort of trouble magnet. Derek had appointed himself the younger man’s keeper. Their relationship had matured over the years but Derek couldn’t shed the urge to keep Stiles safe. This waiting was killing him.

“Have you been able to reach Stiles’s dad yet?” Derek suddenly asked. Father and son were very close and the sheriff would be displeased if anything regarding his only child was hidden from him.

“I had to leave a message. Hopefully we’ll hear from him soon,” Jeff responded.

Stiles’s dad and Lydia’s mother were traveling through Europe together. They had been dating for about a year, much to everyone’s surprise. The sheriff and the socialite. They were both pragmatic people though so they made sense as a couple, at least to Derek. Stiles just wanted his dad to be happy.

“You should catch some sleep,” Jeff interrupted the silence that had fallen over the office.

Shaking his head, Derek frowned. “I’m tired but there’s no way I could sleep,” he stated. “Not without knowing…”

Jeff squeezed his biceps. “I know, waiting around, not knowing, sucks. I just don’t know what more we can do at the moment. I’m going to fix us something to eat. Why don’t you take a shower and change?”

Staring down, Derek grimaced. He was still in his tux from the movie premiere, bowtie shed hours ago. Jeff was still dressed in a suit from his meeting. They might as well get comfortable. “Yeah, although I can’t say as I’m hungry.”

“Just get cleaned up and then I’ll do the same,” Jeff parried. There were dark shadows under his eyes and he looked worn out.

Derek showered, shaved and made himself more respectable looking, all in a haze.

What if he never saw Stiles again? What if Derek never got a chance to tell Stiles more about how he felt about him?

_Wait, what? How he felt about Stiles?_

Derek loved Stiles. No, he was in love with Stiles. When the hell had that happened? They’d moved from friends to Dom/sub and dating, to full blown love. Derek supposed the pressure cooker situation of Stiles being missing had clarified his feelings for him.

Or maybe things had changed when Stiles had let Derek tie him up and then cuddled against him. Or when Stiles trusted Derek with the truth about what was going on with Heather. Or when Stiles insisted Derek go to the movie premiere because it was what was best for Derek’s career.

Descending the stairs, Derek followed his nose to the kitchen where he found Jeff dumping lo mein noodles in a pot of boiling water. Three minutes later, Jeff was stirring in the lo mein sauce. Derek retrieved the dishes and silverware and set the breakfast nook. Jeff brought the food over and both men dug in although neither one had much appetite; they both knew they had to stay strong though so they shoveled some of the food in, chewing quietly, staring at their cell phones which sat out on the table.

Both phones pinged with a message from Parrish: _the apartment listed on Garrett’s application has been cleared out._

Derek shoved his plate away, the taste of Sriracha sitting heavily in his mouth.

“I’m going to grab a shower. Do you mind putting the left-overs away?” Jeff requested quietly.

Nodding in acquiescence, Derek put the food in a Tupperware container and stowed it in the refrigerator before he washed everything by hand. His brain never stopped buzzing with worry but it was a bit of a distraction to keep his hands busy.

A short while later a casually dressed Jeff returned and both men returned to his office, cell phones clutched in hand, willing them to share some news.

-0-

Jeff had fallen asleep an hour ago and Derek didn’t have the heart to wake him. The older man was slumped, cheek pressed against his desk, breathing evenly. Derek thought about waking him—he was going to have one hell of a crick in his neck—but he figured any rest was better than physical comfort at the moment as it had been twenty-three hours since Stiles had gone missing and they still had no viable leads.

A knock at the front door sent Derek’s heart racing. Jeff sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. He staggered up and went to the door, letting Parrish and Clarke inside. All four people trooped into the front parlor again.

Parrish’s and Clarke’s expressions were grave.

“Tell us,” Derek croaked out, expecting the worse.

Parrish nodded. “We found Garrett and Violet Collins. The Porsche was located at the bottom of Laurel Canyon. They’re necks were broken and I don’t think it was due to the car crashing.”

Clarke morosely continued. “They were our best, and only, leads.”

Jeff’s phone bleated an interruption. “Excuse me, I think this is the call we’ve been waiting for,” he said as he pulled his cell out of his pocket. “Danny, hi. Do you have anything?”

Pause.

“Just a minute, I’d like to put you on speaker phone,” Jeff continued. “There, can you hear us?”

Danny cleared his throat. “Um, who exactly is we?”

“Derek and the detectives on the case,” Jeff explained.

Danny groaned. “Jeff, you do know some of my methods are…”

“Danny, Stiles has been missing for twenty-three hours. If these good officers want to arrest you for helping us then I will hire the best legal representation money can buy to keep you out of jail,” Jeff fired back.

“Fine,” Danny acceded to Jeff’s demand. “I’m Stiles’s friend, too, you know. And this doesn’t sound good at all. There are texts between Garrett, Violet and a third party and they seem to be about hiring them to acquire Stiles. Let me backtrack a bit…at first there are texts about Stiles being on a Dead Pool list. He was slated to die by poisoning but yesterday he got switched to a sexual acquisitions list.”

Eyebrows around the room shot up in sync. Derek growled, “Come again?”

“Yeah, for a cool 1 mil these two yahoos agreed to deliver Stiles to this third party who goes by the name Benefactor. What the actual fuck?” Danny ranted.

Parrish joined the conversation. “Did the texts say where to deliver Stiles?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to text you the address, it’s a motel in the sketchy part of Ho-town, room 24,” Danny answered and then made good on his promise as Jeff’s phone pinged the incoming text alert.

“Did you find anything else that might help us bring back Stiles?” Clarke queried.

“Yeah. Hurry. The Benefactor sounds like a sleazoid and he wants to get his freak on with Stiles majorly. Let me know when you find Stiles, okay?” Danny asked softly.

“Sure thing, Danny. Thanks. I owe you one,” Jeff said before disconnecting the call.

Parrish and Clarke were already pulling their weapons out and checking them. Parrish called in to their superior and reported they’d had a break in the case and were on their way to an address in West Hollywood and requested back up.

Clarke shoved them back when Derek and Jeff followed them through the door. “No way. Civilians do not get to ride along.”

“Either I come with you, or I’ll follow you. I have the address too,” Derek snapped, crossing his arms. He was smart enough not to lay hands on the detectives but no one was going to prevent him from getting to Stiles.

“Fine, just one of you then. And you stay in the car until we tell you it’s clear. Understand?” Parrish demanded.

Derek would’ve agreed to anything. “Yes. Now can we please go?”

Jeff stood in the doorway, looking forlorn, as they squealed out of the driveway. It was going to take them at least thirty minutes to get to their destination with the way traffic was moving.

Clarke threw the magnetized light on top of the car and Parrish zigged and zagged his way through traffic as though he was a pro racecar driver.

Derek broke out in a cold sweat. He wanted to believe Stiles would be okay but the information Danny had uncovered made him nauseous. 

_First someone wanted Stiles dead and then they changed their mind and instead wanted to assault him?_

Parrish executed a tight U-turn without any warning, brakes crying as they pulled to a sharp stop. Derek looked at the motel they were parked in front of and realized they’d made it. Stiles had to be inside of here.

“Stay put,” Clarke snapped out. 

Derek ignored her, slamming out of the backseat as fast as he could. The detectives went to the front desk, flashed their badges, demanding the key to Room 24 and were told some boys in blue had already arrived and went up to the room. The detectives took the news in stride, running down the hallway where rooms 12 – 24 were housed. Of course 24 was the last one on the right, as far from the lobby as possible.

Derek thundered into the room, hard on the heels of the detectives. He considered himself a law-abiding citizen but this was possibly Stiles they were talking about locating; Stiles who had been in the hands of that creepy stalker for more than twenty-four hours. There was no way in hell Derek was going to sit by idly.

Parrish was snapping pictures with his cell phone, which had Derek snarling in outrage. The older man said he was cataloging evidence as he barked instructions to the younger Clarke.

“He’s alive!” Clarke called out as she fumbled with the ropes. The ropes that were holding Stiles down. Or up. The uniforms were standing off to the side, gawking.

Bile flooded up Derek’s throat, threatening to creep into his sinuses, as he surveyed the room. The center of the room where what looked like a red padded saw horse sat, much like the one he’s seen at the BDSM club, Sinister. 

Derek blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. A nude Stiles sat astride the red padded saw horse.

No, not nude. Stiles was clothed in a black jockstrap and the sliver of cloth somehow made Stiles seem more vulnerable than if he was naked. Black ropes crisscrossed his torso, one end tethering him to the front of the horse. The rest of the black rope held Stiles’s long legs back in an L shape, as if he were kneeling, before winding around his wrists, arms pulled taut behind him, trussed to the back of the horse.

From a purely aesthetic point of view, it was gorgeous. All of that pale skin wrapped and restrained by black against a red backdrop.

Except this was Stiles. 

Stiles who wasn’t moving.

Clarke finally cut the ropes loose and Stiles tilted precariously to the side away from the detective. Derek was there, cushioning his descent to the carpet, cradling Stiles in his lap as Clarke continued to pull the rope from his body.

A length of black material was twisted and inserted in Stiles’s mouth like a bit, tied so tightly at the back of his head that his mouth was held open. Clarke quickly cut the gag off—a cleave gag was what Parrish called it from somewhere behind him as he continued to document the spectacle—and long eyelashes fluttered as Stiles swallowed and bit down on the cloth unconsciously. The sight might’ve been arousing if tears hadn’t been trickling out of the corners of tightly closed eyes.

“Hey, Stiles, it’s okay. We’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’m not going to let you go.” Derek realized he’d been repeating these same words over and over.

Noise at the doorway signaled the arrival of the paramedics with a gurney. The guy, a nicely built blond, kneeled down next to Derek, and spoke in a soothing voice. “We’d like to check your friend over now. Do you think it would be okay if I lifted him on to the gurney?”

Not only had Derek been whispering soothing phrases without thought, but he’d been mindlessly rocking the still body in his arms. He probably looked like a mental case and the paramedics were scared of setting him off.

Derek shifted with a nod, willing to transfer his unconscious friend to the arms of the paramedic but that’s when Stiles woke up.

Stiles blinked up at Derek, a look of pure relief on his face, and he found himself relaxing. The man in his arms seemed aware of his surroundings. Everything was going to be okay.

“Der?” Stiles’s question devolved into a coughing fit, his mouth probably too dry from the gag. Red marks streaked from the corner of those pouty lips, slashing their way across the pale skin. Red that would turn to purple and blue.

“Yeah, Stiles. It’s okay. The paramedics are going to make sure you’re okay now.” Derek nodded to the blond next to him and Stiles’s gaze shifted that way.

Those big, brown eyes widened, body flailing backward, almost unbalancing Derek. “No! Stay away!”

Wet coated Derek’s collarbone and he realized Stiles’s face was buried against his neck, tears streaming unchecked. The body in his arms quivered as arms clutched tightly around his neck.

Derek looked at the paramedic with bafflement until he, too, made the connection. The paramedic was nicely built and blond with big blue eyes. Just like Stalker Garrett.

“I’m sorry, I think you might look like his attacker,” Derek was able to rasp out, his heart breaking in time with Stiles’s sobs. 

The female paramedic came forward with an orange shock blanket in her hands. She was able to thread the blanket under Stiles’s back and wrap it tightly around his chest. “You look like a strong guy. Do you think you can carry your friend out to our rig? I don’t think we want to separate you two just yet.”

Nodding his head, Derek shifted his hold to make sure his left arm cradled Stiles’s back securely while his right arm braced under his knees. The paramedics each took an elbow and guided him to his feet. The walk outside was a blur but it didn’t take long before they were nestled in the back of the ambulance.

Before he could protest, the woman slid a needle into the crook of Stiles’s elbow, the wounded sound his friend made like a fist squeezing his heart. The tears finally abated but the trembling worsened. The blond guy lifted Stiles out of his arms and strapped him down to the gurney.

Derek recognized the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope and once readings were taken, an IV was slid into the back of Stiles’s left hand. 

“Hi Derek, I’m Miri. Please buckle up. We’d like to get Stiles to the ER right away so they can check him out more thoroughly,” the female paramedic said.

It took some fumbling but Derek was able to comply. “Where’d the guy go?”

“Todd is driving us to Cedars-Sinai. Usually I drive but since Stiles had such a reaction to his ugly mug, I said I’d watch over him.” Miri fussed with the blanket, snugging it higher on Stiles’s neck, before picking up his wrist and frowning at the red marks marring the skin. “Poor baby.”

Poor baby, indeed. Miri didn’t know the half of it. Actually, Derek didn’t know either. What had Garrett done to Stiles? Or if not Garrett, someone had done something. The psychological torment had turned to physical but how badly had that scum hurt his Stiles?

Stiles stayed blessedly unconscious throughout the ride and transfer to the hospital. There he was whisked away so a doctor could assess him. It turned into a waiting game and Derek’s patience had worn thin.

The doctor kept Stiles sedated but because Derek wasn’t family, the nurses refused to tell him anything. He was on the verge of making a scene when Jeff approached him, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. Derek wanted to knock it away, put the blame on Jeff for bringing Garrett into their lives, but the look on the older man’s face told Derek how deeply he was sorry far more than words could convey; Jeff looked positively broken, eyes bloodshot from crying, deep lines carved around his mouth and eyes. Derek pulled an off balance Jeff into his arms for a hug.

A tall blond man who was probably in his forties approached, breaking the awkward hug apart. “Derek Hale? I’m Dr. Ryan, the Hospitalist assigned to Stiles. We were able to reach his father who said we could give you an update. He said to let you know they’re on their way back.” Derek wasn’t sure how Stiles would feel about the sheriff hovering around him but Derek thought his steady presence would be a good thing.

Derek introduced Jeff to the doctor and after a round of handshakes, Dr. Ryan asked them to follow him. They ended up in a quiet lounge area. 

Dr. Ryan sunk into a chair motioning Derek and Jeff to join him as he began to catalog Stiles’s injuries. “Stiles is dehydrated and we’re addressing that right now by administering IV fluids. He’s having a MRI to make sure we didn’t miss any injuries but he doesn’t appear to have fractures. He sustained heavy bruising around his wrists, ankles and mouth so we’re giving him something for the pain. When he wakes up we’ll ask his permission to give him a Sexual Assault Nurse Examination.”

Derek found himself perched on the edge of his seat as Jeff collapsed back into his, covering his face with his hands. “Do you think…I mean did you see evidence…” Jeff’s voice trailed off as he abandoned the question.

“The SANE examination will give us those answers but it’s up to Stiles if he wants to share that information with you. Since Stiles’s choices were taken out of his hands, it’s very important that we empower him as much as we can now. Do you have any other questions?” Dr. Ryan asked, gray eyes compassionate.

“You’re not going to do the examination are you? I mean did the paramedics share what happened when the blond, Todd, tried to get near Stiles?” Derek forced himself to ask the question. He needed to act in Stiles’s best interests until his friend felt better.

“A Registered Nurse who has been certified in the forensic care of a patient who may have been assaulted will administer the exam.” Dr. Ryan paused, looking thoughtful. “I didn’t get to speak with the paramedics in person and thought someone had exaggerated Stiles’s reaction but if you think there’s cause for concern then I’ll have a different Hospitalist assigned to Stiles. There’s no reason to add stress to an already stressful situation.”

Derek appreciated that the doctor didn’t demand more of an explanation. The thought of having to recount Stiles’s reactions upon waking made Derek want to weep.

“Do you think you could have a female doctor assigned to his care?” Derek wasn’t trying to tell the hospital how to run its business but at least initially he thought Stiles would do better surrounded by female caretakers.

Dr. Ryan rose to his feet. “I think that would be for the best. I’m going to go take care of that right now. Someone will be in to escort you to Stiles shortly.”

Derek and Jeff both climbed to their feet and thanked the doctor. Before they settled back into the chairs, a nurse in navy scrubs was beckoning them from the doorway. “Derek? Stiles is a little stressed right now and he’d like your company. If you could try to keep him calm so he doesn’t injure himself that would be very helpful.”

As they approached a private room, Derek could hear Stiles’s hoarse voice calling his name. He tried not to manhandle the nurse out of his way but he might not have been very successful in his rush to get into the room.

“I’m right here, Stiles.” Derek called as he bolted into the room. 

“Derek,” Stiles sobbed out softly, holding his arms toward Derek, seeking comfort.

Derek leaned over and gentle drew Stiles into his arms. “I’m right here, Stiles. You’re going to be okay.”

When almost all of his family burned to the ground, Derek had hated the platitudes handed out to him and Laura. Things weren’t okay. Time might heal all wounds but life at the moment had sucked. The one family member who had survive, his Uncle Peter, was a mess both physically and emotionally. With Laura gone, his uncle was his only surviving family member and Derek tended to avoid him due to his instability.

Derek vowed to tell Stiles the truth, no matter how painful. He wasn’t okay right now but one day he would be.

“What happened?” Stiles begged, “I was waiting for you to come home and I woke up here, alone. Where were you?!” Stiles’s voice could be categorized as a loud whisper and its jagged edges made Derek wince. Stiles actually batted Derek with his forearm in his agitation, wincing when his damaged wrist made harsh contact.

“You were gone when I got home. Someone kidnapped you. Someone…,” Derek wanted to be truthful but he didn’t want to traumatize Stiles even more. If Stiles wanted to hit him, Derek would let him.

“Someone hurt me,” Stiles hiccupped, collapsing back into Derek’s arms. The younger man was intuitive, he might not remember exactly what happened but waking up in a hospital, in pain, gave him certain clues. 

Derek buried his face in the crook of Stiles’s neck and breathed in and out slowly. “Yeah, someone took you and hurt you. But we got you back. It sucks right now but in time I think you’ll be okay,” Derek crooned, rubbing his cheek softly against Stiles’s cheek.

Stiles didn’t shy away from Derek’s touch, which was something. 

A woman in a white lab coat knocked on the door. “I’m Dr. Powers. May I come in for a moment?”

Stiles tensed but nodded his head yes. Derek let Stiles clutch his hand as hard as he wanted even thought it hurt.

“You have some superficial injuries although I realize they hurt. You have some bruising and abrasions, most noticeably around your mouth, your wrists and your anus.” The doctor wasn’t going to pull any punches and that was really the best tact to take with Stiles. Derek’s estimation of the doctor went up.

“When can I leave?” Stiles croaked out, his voice hoarse when it was raised above the whisper he’d been using.

“We would like to do a SANE exam. Do you know what that is?” Dr. Powers asked.

“I know what it is. How soon can we do it? Can I leave afterward?” Stiles hated hospitals but then who didn’t. 

“You were heavily drugged so we would like to monitor you for a day or two. Once the drugs have cleared your system, if you haven’t developed any complications, you may leave,” the doctor explained.

Stiles didn’t like it, his face scrunched up in distaste, but the little burst of energy he’d displayed was fading fast. He collapsed back into the pillows, chest heaving.

Dr. Powers stood next to Stiles but didn’t try to touch him. “I’m going to arrange the exam. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No.” Stiles husked out, his eyes fluttering closed.

The woman left the room and Jeff entered quietly. “How is he?”

“Exhausted. Sore. Pissed off. About what you’d expect I guess,” Derek sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Jeff cleared his throat. “I was able to get in touch with the sheriff. As soon as they can get a flight back, he’ll be here. Just like the other doctor had said.”

It would be good for Stiles to have his father here. Stiles would need routine and normalcy.

Stiles flopped his hand out, seeking Derek’s touch. Derek took the proffered hand, chafing it between both of his.

Derek would see that Stiles got whatever he needed.

-0-

Derek had talked to Stiles every day since his release from the hospital but he hadn’t seen him. It was the sheriff’s idea and Derek respected his wishes but it was absolutely killing him not to see how Stiles was doing.

The SANE exam had revealed Stiles had been penetrated but no DNA evidence had been left behind. To add to the horror, Stiles’s time in the motel room had been taped for posterity’s sake. The crime lab had been able to take down the recording but if anyone had downloaded it before then that meant it was still floating around.

Stiles had been surprisingly upbeat for someone who had gone through what he had. He was saying the right things and going through the right motions so Derek had guessed things were going well.

It had been a whole month since Derek had seen Stiles and Derek hopped on the chance to see him, even if it was under less than ideal circumstances.

“So, um…” Stiles had begun and then stopped.

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Derek prodded. The sheriff had made it abundantly clear Derek wasn’t to put any pressure on his son but Derek couldn’t help if he didn’t know about the issues.

“I need a favor,” Stiles blurted out.

“Whatever you need,” Derek countered. He didn’t even have to think about that one.

Stiles sighed and Derek wished he was there so he could wrap him up in a great, big hug. “The therapist thinks I should see the recording. That it will be bring closure for me.” Derek imagined Stiles throwing finger quotes around the word closure. 

Derek didn’t think it was a good idea but he wasn’t a therapist. “Oh.” When that didn’t elicit a response, he made himself ask, “What does your dad think?”

“He wants me to do it. He thinks I’m avoiding what happened,” Stiles explained quietly.

“Okay, what do you want, Stiles?” Derek knew this was the most important question. This should be Stiles’s and solely Stiles’s, decision.

“I,” Stiles paused. Stiles almost always knew his own mind. This indecision was probably the biggest clue something big was going on in his life. Stiles began again, hesitantly, “I don’t really want to know what happened, I don’t see how it will help me, but maybe they’re right. Maybe I need to know so I can deal with it and move on.”

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind,” Derek stated, hoping Stiles would take some time to make this decision.

Another huge sigh escaped out of Stiles. “Yeah. I guess. Will you go with me?”

“Oh.” Derek hadn’t seen that request coming. At all.

Stiles mistook his silence for refusal. “Hey, it’s okay. That’s too much to ask of you. Too much to ask of anyone. I’ll be okay on my own. Don’t worry about it,” Stiles continued to babble on in this vein for a while.

“Stiles, it’s fine, I’ll go with you. When do you want to do this?” Derek was finally able to get a word in edge wise.

“I, uh, made an appointment for this afternoon. At my therapist’s. If I give you the address will you meet me there?” Stiles still didn’t seem confident in his decision but Derek would support him.

“Do you need me to pick you up?” Derek offered. He’d really like to see Stiles, even if it was just in the car.

“My dad is taking me.” Stiles didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect but he seemed intent on not doing anything to rock the boat.

“Does your dad know you asked me to meet you there?” Derek probed.

“No?”

The sheriff was going to be one unhappy camper but if Stiles needed him at this appointment, he’d be there.

“What time is the appointment? And could you send me the address of this place?” Derek requested.

Air audibly gushed out of Stiles. “Thanks, Derek. Really.”

Stiles gave him the information he needed to meet him at the appointment and Derek signed off. He had three hours to pep talk himself into being the kind of support Stiles needed to view his own rape.

-0-

The therapist, Dr. Morrell, introduced herself to Derek. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hale. I’ve heard a lot about you from Stiles.”

Derek returned the firm handshake. “Please, call me Derek.” He couldn’t say he was pleased to meet the doctor. She seemed a bit cold and Derek had a hard time envisioning her making any sort of connection with Stiles. 

The sheriff grudgingly acknowledged his presence with a growled, “Derek.”

Stiles scowled at his father before smiling at Derek. “Thanks for coming.”

“I meant it Stiles. Whatever you need,” Derek repeated. 

Dr. Morrell ushered everyone into her office. “I thought I would pull up the recording on my laptop and Stiles and I would discuss what we see. This will demystify what happened to Stiles and help him take back control.”

“No,” Stiles said but then halted, unwilling, or unable, to continue.

“What do you mean no?” the sheriff looked like he was on the verge of a hypertensive episode, his face florid. “Stiles, you said you wanted to do this.” People had always commented on Stiles’s lack of patience and here was proof he came by it honestly. 

“Please, Stiles, tell us what you want,” Dr. Morrell interceded, her voice well modulated. It grated on Derek’s nerves.

“I want,” Stiles paused, gulping convulsively, “I want Derek with me. Just us two.” Stiles was biting his lip, apprehensive and uncertain. He took a deep breath, composing himself. “I actually didn’t say I wanted this. You want this and apparently what you want…no, we’re not going to rehash this all again. I just want to get this over with,” Stiles sighed out. It wasn’t his usual long-suffering sigh he used in jest; he seemed out of energy.

The sheriff nodded, agreeable. “Sure, Stiles. We’ll just step out into the waiting room okay?” It was his spooked horse gentling tone. “Call us if you need us.” The older man nodded at Derek, unsmiling. 

The doctor stared at Stiles thoughtfully before following the sheriff out of the room, closing the door gently.

Stiles rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s do this.” He walked over to the table with the laptop and hit play on the video cued up on the screen.

Derek walked up behind Stiles. “Hey, do you want to sit down?” Stiles might want to pace but Derek planned on staying close to him so if he felt like he was going to pass out, and Stiles’s color was abysmal so it was a distinct possibility, he’d be there to catch him. 

The other man gave a quick shake of the head to the negative. “Will you hold my hand?” The words were spoken so softly, Derek almost didn’t hear them. 

Derek wrapped his right arm around Stiles’s waist, tugging Stiles’s left hand into his right. His left hand went in front of Stiles, grabbing ahold of his right hand. Stiles settled his weight back into Derek’s chest, letting out a shuddering breath.

Redirecting his attention to the screen, Derek was confronted with the image that had Stiles so shaken.

Long, pale limbs rested haphazardly against the dark sheets, a blindfold hiding half of the face with a gag obscuring most of the rest. It was unmistakably Stiles though. The moles dotting the skin in conjunction with the mussed brunette hair were the giveaway.

Stiles’s tugged his right hand away, reaching for the screen. His fingers ghosted over the image there. 

A figure entered the picture and Stiles drew back his hand, covering his mouth with it. 

Whoever it was, they were of average height and average build, at least the brown hooded robe made them appear that way. Derek couldn’t even say with any certainty that it was a male.

Stiles’s breathing had picked up. It sounded as though he had just run five miles, his lungs working hard to fill with life-giving oxygen. Derek found himself taking up more of Stiles’s weight, the arm crossed around his weight anchoring him in place.

_The robed figure on the screen approached Stiles, rubbing gloved hands up and down his limbs, leather fingers poking and prodding here and there. Stiles tossed his head and inched away from the seeking hands but didn’t seem to have the energy or wherewithal to accomplish it._

_The figure left the picture for a moment, rubbing his hands together when he stepped back into the frame. A gloved hand encased Stiles’s long cock, fisting and massaging it._

The Stiles in his arms made a strangled sound and Derek took up even more of his weight, spinning around so his own back was to the laptop, his front plastered against Stiles’s front, his arms holding him close. Stiles draped his chin over Derek’s shoulder, attention still glued to the video. “Why am I responding? He…it…I didn’t consent to this. Why is my body—”

Derek crushed him closer, one hand rubbing up and down his spine, trying to sooth him. He wanted to hush him but the point of this exercise was letting Stiles come to terms with what had happened. 

In their current position, chest to chest, Derek could feel Stiles’s heart thundering. It was worrying but so far Stiles hadn’t called an end to the viewing so Derek was going to stand here and support him. Physically and emotionally.

“No. No. Don’t. God. It’s. I’m gonna,” Stiles was shivering so hard, his teeth started to clack together, cutting off his words.

Derek glanced over his shoulder at the laptop where the robed figure was milking Stiles’s cock until white semen erupted, slicking his stomach and groin.

Stiles began to thrash in Derek’s hold, sobbing. “I can’t. I can’t. Derek, please. I can’t.”

Tremors shook Stiles’s body so hard, Derek swept him up into his arms, cradling him to his chest. “Stiles, hey, let’s go over to the couch, okay?”

Stiles’s head bobbed minutely which Derek took to be consent. He was still staring at Stiles, trying to catch his eye, when his friend’s body went limp. Stiles’s head tipped back over Derek’s arm and he noticed only the whites of Stiles’s eyes visible through slitted lids, eyeballs rolled back into his head. 

The sudden cessation of movement and sound freaked Derek out. “Hey, I need help in here!” he bellowed.

The sheriff and doctor bolted into the room, the sheriff pulling up short when he saw the sorry state his son was in.

Dr. Morrell crossed to Derek. “Here, lay him out on the couch.”

Derek didn’t want to surrender the weight in his arms but he wanted Stiles to wake up. He carefully deposited Stiles on the couch, arranging his limbs into some semblance of comfort.

The doctor turned Stiles’s arm until his wrist was face up, pressing two fingers to it, while staring at the clock across the room. “Hmmm.”

That was helpful. Not.

Derek glanced around for more help only to find the sheriff standing in front of the laptop, hand covering his mouth. Stiles might not appreciate his dad seeing him like that but the sheriff was the one insisting Stiles do this so Derek thought it only fair he should see the price of knowledge first hand.

“Stiles, it’s Dr. Morrell. I have your alprazolam pill and water. Do you think you could take it now?” She asked, slapping Stiles’s cheek a bit ungently.

Stiles moaned, turning away from the woman. At least he was coming around.

Derek took control of the situation. “Give me the pill and water.”

The woman complied although she raised a manicured eyebrow at Derek.

Derek maneuvered her away, perching on the side of the couch. He set the water down on the table nearby, easing his palm beneath Stiles’s neck. “Stiles, can you take this pill for me?”

Stiles turned toward Derek’s voice, nodding his agreement. Derek slipped the pill between Stiles’s pale lips, grabbed the water, then pulled Stiles up so he could sip the water.

Lowering his head back to the leather couch, Derek leaned down and spoke quietly, “You did really well, Stiles. I’m very proud of you. Can you tell me how you feel?” Derek rubbed his shoulder and neck, letting him know he was close.

Stiles twitched, his hand grabbing on to Derek’s. His eyelids lifted, confused brown eyes staring up at Derek. Tears leaked from Stiles’s eyes and when Stiles lifted his arms at Derek, he tugged him into a sitting position, blanketing him in a hug.

Stiles’s voice, hoarse and tentative, sounded next to Derek’s ear. “I want to go home.”

“Yeah, sure. Your dad will take you home,” Derek soothed, his hand rubbing up and down Stiles’s spine.

“No. I want to go home with you,” Stiles said, burying his face in the side of Derek’s neck.

“Yeah. We can do that. How do you feel?” Derek asked, thinking that it might be too soon to move Stiles.

Stiles leaned back and frowned at Derek. “How do you think I feel?”

That was the first inkling Derek had that Stiles was still in there. Still fighting.

“Point taken. What I meant was, do you feel up to the drive?” Derek could see Stiles’s pulse fluttering at his neck. His ashen skin color. His lethargic motions.

“I don’t know but I’m done with this,” Stiles glanced around the room.

Derek stood up and directed his attention to the room’s two other occupants. “Stiles wants to come home with me. Anything we need to know?”

“Stiles should have his medications with him already,” Dr. Morrell said and when Stiles nodded his head, she looked back at Derek. “Here’s my card. If you have any issues don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Wait. You’re just going to let Stiles leave? After that?” The sheriff motioned toward the laptop and then toward the couch. 

“Stiles had a panic attack. It happens. He has his medications and he knows how to get in touch with us,” she reasoned.

The sheriff threw up his hands but didn’t argue. He approached the couch, sitting on the edge. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” He slowly drew Stiles into a hug.

Stiles’s arms remained at his side and he made no response.

The sheriff finally stood up and left the room albeit reluctantly.

“Stiles, I’d like to see you again tomorrow,” Dr. Morrell said quietly as Derek levered Stiles into a standing position.

“Yeah. No. I don’t think so,” Stiles responded. He leaned into Derek’s side and Derek took that as his cue to guide him out of the office.

The ride back to his apartment was quiet. Stiles huddled in the passenger seat, occasionally shivering. Derek kept the air conditioning off in deference to Stiles’s chill so he was sweating. 

Halfway home, Derek set his hand, palm up, on the seat between them and Stiles took the invitation, his hand settling on top of Derek’s.

-0-

“Your dad called me again,” Derek announced when Stiles trudged into the kitchen.

The sheriff had taken to contacting Derek, at least daily, sometimes more, since Stiles refused to take his calls. The man was worried and wanted to know how his son was getting along. He also passed on small tidbits regarding the investigation, an investigation Stiles had no interest in keeping abreast of. 

Lowering himself into a chair, Stiles buried his hands in his hair. “Fine. I’ll call him.”

“I didn’t say you had to call him. I just wanted you to know he called,” Derek said.

“I just,” Stiles started, then stopped. “I’m not ready to see him.”

“I told him that. He’s just worried about you, and he’s sorry. He was convinced seeing that recording would help,” Derek explained on the sheriff’s behalf. He might not have agreed with Stiles’s father but his heart was in the right place. He was miserable with worry over his only child.

The sheriff wasn’t the only one worried about Stiles. Derek had reached that point, too.

Stiles wasn’t sleeping well. He wasn’t eating well. He refused to see the therapist, any therapist. He’d taken himself off of the antidepressants and would only take the anti-anxiety medication when pushed to it.

In Derek’s opinion, Stiles was in a much worse place than he’d been in before the video debacle. Derek had done some research, called around, and decided it was time to try something. Anything.

“I’m going to spend some time in my gym today. I want you to come with me,” Derek invited.

Stiles looked skeptical. “I don’t really like lifting weights.”

“I understand that but I think you need to start doing things, slowly, that will tire you out and increase your appetite,” Derek explained. “If you don’t want to spend time with me in the gym, we could go for a walk.”

His friend’s color washed out. “No. I don’t want to go out.”

“That’s fine. I’m not going to make you do anything, Stiles. I would like your company in the gym though. What do you say?”

“Okay, I guess.” Stiles sounded about as enthused as Derek had expected. He was agreeable to the plan at least.. Although Stiles pretty much agreed to anything Derek suggested. It was weird to see his headstrong friend so pliant.

“No time like the presence. Let’s go downstairs and then I’ll whip us up some breakfast,” Derek outlined.

Stiles stood up, looked down at what he was wearing, and shrugged. “Okay.”

Derek suppressed the desire to sigh. He should just be happy Stiles wasn’t digging his heels in. If this didn’t work, Derek wasn’t sure what his next move would be.

They moved to the basement and Derek settled on a mat, stretching out. “The sound system is over there. Why don’t you pick something for us to listen to?”

Stiles shrugged again but willingly moved over to the docking station with iPod and Pandora as music options. 

Music began to pump through the room and Derek recognized something he’d heard Stiles play before. It was harder and darker than the songs Derek usually gravitated toward but Stiles was bopping his head along to the music, which made Derek grin.

“I’m going to work with the weights. Why don’t you walk on the treadmill for a while? Make sure you warm up first,” Derek instructed.

Stiles was wearing ratty looking Vans with wind pants and a t-shirt. Derek almost offered to go get Stiles his running shoes but he didn’t want to ruin the mood. Besides, a nice walk on the treadmill wouldn’t require more than the most basic of footwear.

Derek tackled the bench press first. After he finished those reps, he moved on to the leg press. He tried to alternate between arms and legs with some core exercises thrown in. The music kept him moving and Derek realized he recognized the band—Avenged Sevenfold. It was definitely darker and harder than Derek’s preference but Stiles seemed happy with his choice. He had graduated from a brisk walk to a jog, his long legs pounding a steady beat on the treadmill. Derek went back to his circuit, content in knowing Stiles was moving around.

After 90 minutes, as Derek was nearing the end of his work out, Stiles flopped on to the mat next to him. “I’m hungry. Are you almost done?”

Stiles had been staying with Derek for two weeks now and this was the first time he’d said he was hungry. It was also the first time Stiles had gotten any exercise. 

Derek was encouraged although he knew this was going to be a battle fought over time, not won in a day or two.

It was still progress.

-0-

The doorbell buzzer sounded and Stiles tensed up. Derek went to the speaker, “Yes?”

“It’s Malia. I just wanted to stop for a minute. Can I come up?” The bubbly brunette asked.

Derek quirked an eyebrow toward Stiles, waiting for an indication he felt up to a visit. Stiles shook his head yes. Good enough. “Sure, Malia. Come on up.”

A few minutes later, Malia knocked on the door. Derek checked through the peephole before opening the door; the building was secure but he was definitely security conscious now.

“Hey, Malia, come on in,” Derek invited. Malia entered the apartment, her two golden retrievers, Trixie and Max, preceding her. The dogs made a beeline for Stiles who was just rising up from the couch.

“You brought the dogs! Hey guys,” Stiles crooned, dropping down to a knee so he could haul the dogs in for hugs. The retrievers’ plumy tails swished through the air, knocking magazines off of the coffee table. 

Their antics put a smile on Stiles’s face and Derek turned his attention back to their human guest. “So what brings you to the hood?”

“You know I love your apartment and never miss an opportunity to drop by. I didn’t even know there were two story apartment units available. I totally want this place,” Malia pouted.

“You’ll have to put your name on the waiting list,” Derek smirked. He was happy that their upbeat friend had dropped by.

“Actually, me and the kids wanted to hike in the canyon and I thought I’d see if you guys wanted to tag along,” Malia explained. 

Derek had some homework to do, he was reading for a part tomorrow, so he shouldn’t take Malia up on her offer. 

He looked to Stiles who seemed excited at the prospect of an outing. “That sounds great! I’ve missed you.”

Malia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I can tell. You’re over their with the four leggeds and haven’t come over to say hi to me yet.” It was good-humored snark and Stiles laughed.

“Let me get my shoes,” Stiles stood up. “Are you going to change?” he directed his question at Derek.

Derek shook his head with regret. “I really need to get ready for my reading tomorrow. But you two, excuse me, you four should take advantage of the nice weather.”

Stiles stood still, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip. “Maybe I should stay here.”

Malia, not the most tactful person, opened her mouth but then closed it. She deferred to Derek.

“What’s on your mind?” Derek asked. He almost asked what Stiles was worried about but he didn’t want to diminish his feelings in any way. If Stiles wasn’t ready to venture outdoors, Derek wasn’t going to push him.

“What if someone follows us?” Stiles finally voiced, staring down at the carpet. 

Malia cleared her throat. “I brought my Taser. I actually brought my spare, too. You can carry it,” Malia said, digging into the backpack slung over her shoulder. She withdrew a black plastic apparatus that resembled a toy gun and handed it to Stiles.

Stiles looked at the Taser, then up at Malia’s face. “You brought this for me?”

“Well yeah. I’m spooked by what happened and it didn’t even happen to me. I want you to feel safe. Between these and the killer dogs, we should be able to defend ourselves. What do you think?” Malia said as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

A slow smile broke out across Stiles’s face. “I say we take the fur faces out for a hike. Thanks, Malia!” Stiles brushed a kiss across her cheek before he disappeared down the hallway to retrieve his shoes.

“You’re very perceptive, Malia. Thank you,” Derek pulled her into a hug.

“Well duh. I’ll take good care of him,” Malia assured him, hugging him back tightly.

Stiles returned, wearing a hoodie, baseball cap, and hiking boots. More and more of Stiles’s things had migrated to Derek’s place as the sheriff had sent things over.

“Do you guys need water?” Derek asked. He thought this was a great idea but he suddenly realized he didn’t like the thought of Stiles being away from him.

Malia patted her backpack. “I have water and snacks. Human and dog variety.”

Derek turned back to Stiles. “What about your cell phone?”

Stiles’s hand dipped into the pocket at the front of his hoodie. “Right here.”

“You’ll call me if you need me?” Derek pressed.

Stiles’s face creased into a smile. “Yes, Derek.”

“Okay then, you guys are in charge,” Derek kneeled down and threw an arm around each dog. Malia and Stiles laughed.

Derek ushered everyone out the door and was closing it when Stiles stepped back inside. “Did you forget something?”

“I did,” Stiles said before launching himself into Derek’s arms. It was the first time Stiles initiated anything other than handholding. 

Derek’s anxiety level eased up. Stiles had his bad days but his good days seemed to be out numbering them now.

“You’d better hustle or Trixie and Max will leave you in their dust,” Derek said, swatting Stiles on his firm ass.

Stiles giggled. “Yeah, that’s no lie. See you later.”

-0-

Derek let himself into the apartment, not surprised in the least when he was greeted by silence.

Making his way into the kitchen, Derek saw a note on the refrigerator in Stiles’s messy scrawl. _Went to kickboxing with Kira. Home by 8.”_

Stiles continued to join Derek in the gym, hiked with Malia and her retrievers three times a week, and had started attending kickboxing class with Kira. Derek knew exercise wasn’t the cure-all for the trauma Stiles had endured but since he’d started up with a routine, he seemed to be feeling better and getting out more.

Kira had shown up at the apartment a week after Malia, begging Stiles to join her for a cardio kickboxing class. Stiles had been reluctant but when Kira pouted, saying she was jealous because Stiles would exercise with Malia but not her, Stiles had rolled his eyes and agreed. With just one class, Stiles had been hooked.

Derek glanced at the clock. It was 7:15 now. If he hustled he could be down at the club before the end of the class, maybe entice Stiles and Kira into grabbing a bite to eat.

His mind made up, Derek splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. Then he was ready to climb back into his Toyota.

Derek told the guy at the front desk he was there to pick someone up from kickboxing class. The guy, blond, buff and friendly, had tried talking Derek into a trial membership. Derek declined but the guy took it with good grace and even gave Derek directions to the room where the kickboxing class was being held. Derek wondered if Stiles had problems with the guy since he was a blond.

Other people were standing in the open doorway, watching the class. Derek recognized _Kill Everybody_ by Skrillex, which, Stiles had played for him after the first class. Stiles loved the song, he said it was impossible not to give it his all when it played even when he was ready to drop, and it had become a regular part of their gym workout playlist.

Sure enough, Kira and Stiles were on opposite sides of a freestanding bag, kicking in time to the music with alternate legs. Kira was small but mighty and Stiles’s long legs whipped out with power, both of them rocking the bag. Stiles landed a kick so hard, Kira stumbled back from the bag. 

Both of them began to giggle until the instructor came over and redirected their attention.

The class was made up of ten students plus the instructor. Stiles was the only male and Derek knew that wasn’t coincidence; Kira had made sure there wouldn’t be anyone in the class Stiles might be threatened by. Although Derek could say every female in this class was super fit and could probably do him some damage if they wanted so he was uncertain of Kira’s criteria. At least Stiles was having a blast.

The music changed to a slower song with an electronic violin, _Crystallize._ Derek recognized it as another one Stiles had raved about after his first class. 

Everyone dropped into a circle and began their stretching cool down. Derek swallowed convulsively, choking on saliva, as he noticed Stiles’s position. Stiles was on all fours before he slid his right shin forward parallel to the front of the mat and let his left leg remain behind him. He walked his hands forward, slowly, stretching his weight over his bent knee, before walking his hands back. 

The instructor called it the pigeon stretch but Derek called it Hot Damn, Stiles was Flexible. Derek adjusted himself as casually as he could. 

The instructor took the class through some more stretches and soon everyone was thanking her, before filing out. Stiles and Kira were last, busy giggling and elbowing each other, like siblings.

Stiles looked up and made eye contact. “Derek!” Soon a sweaty Stiles catapulted himself into Derek’s arms. “You came!”

Well if Stiles kept this up, Derek was going to come, that was for sure. “I’ve only been here for fifteen minutes. You guys looked like you were kicking butt and having fun.”

“Yeah, I love cardio kickboxing. I’m so glad Stiles likes it too,” Kira answered, toweling her neck off before shoving another towel at Stiles as he stepped back from Derek. “You should join us,” she said, smiling.

“I’m not quite as flexible as you two, but thanks,” Derek answered.

Stiles opened her mouth to argue but Kira elbowed him, smirking, as she laughed at Derek. “Yeah, Stiles is like Gumby. I’ve never known a guy quite so flexible.”

Derek vowed to get even with Kira. Now he had visions of Stiles contorting himself into amazing positions in bed, with Derek. She might look like an innocent, peppy cheerleader type but Kira was evil. 

Clearing his throat, Derek changed the subject. “Do you guys want to get something to eat? My treat.”

“Oh, I’ve got an early call tomorrow so I should get home. Thank you though!” Kira chirped, pressing a kiss to Derek’s cheek. “You’ll get him home?”

Derek nodded yes. Stiles didn’t want to go anywhere by himself and to be honest, Derek didn’t want him to either. Not yet. 

Turning, Kira executed the same maneuver on Stiles’s cheek. “See you on Thursday?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Stiles answered, smothering her in a hug. 

With a final goodbye, Kira headed toward the woman’s locker room.

“What about you? Do you want to go for something to eat?” Derek asked.

“I, uh, didn’t bring any clothes with,” Stiles answered before draining the last of his water bottle. Derek might’ve admired the way his throat lengthened when he tipped his head back or the way it worked while he swallowed. 

“That’s okay, we can make pizzas at home if you want,” Derek offered. It would be a late dinner but they always had fun when they made their own crust and put on what Derek considered healthier toppings.

“That sounds amazing. Thanks, Derek.” Stiles looped his arm through Derek’s and Derek grinned. Maybe kickboxing made Stiles horny, too.

Derek was content to let Stiles set the pace but he felt like they were moving in the right direction, or at least the direction Derek was interested in going.

They said goodbye to the guy at the front desk and Stiles didn’t so much as flinch. Derek voiced his curiosity, “So that guy doesn’t bother you?”

“Who, Rex? Nah, he’s cool,” Stiles answered. “Why?”

“It just seems that you’re not comfortable around blond men, which is totally understandable, so I wanted to check,” Derek responded truthfully.

“No way, it’s not the blond hair that gets me, it’s the intense blue eyes,” Stiles replied, unfazed by the direction of the conversation.

“Do Parrish and Clark know that?” Derek asked.

Stiles scrunched his face up in thought. “Don’t know. Not sure it came up.”

Derek couldn’t place his finger on it, but he was filled with disquiet at this news. Stiles had come in contact with a lot of blue-eyed people—Allison’s father, hell, even her creepy grandfather. Jeff’s PA, Theo. 

The sheriff had blue eyes for God’s sake. So did Peter for that matter. And Jeff.

Deucalion at the BDSM club. Derek made a mental note to follow up with the detectives on that one. 

Those were just the people Stiles knew and had contact with before he was taken. That didn’t even account for any sick fucks out there who were strangers.

Shrugging off the unease, Derek escorted Stiles out to his Toyota. He’d worry about this development tomorrow.

-0-

The pizza had been a success and both men lounged on the couch, digesting.

“So,” Stiles began. “I’ve been thinking.’

“That sounds vaguely ominous. What’s on your mind?” Derek was worried Stiles wanted to move out, or spend less time together, or something like that.

“Remember when we were researching for Jeff’s project and you, um, tied me up?” Stiles was looking down at his lap, avoiding Derek’s face.

Oh. Derek remembered that practice session. Fondly. It might feature as his favorite spank bank material. 

“I do remember that. I had…fun. Lots of fun. Why? Is that something you might like to try again?” Derek asked, trying not to sound too excited. Everything they did was going to be at Stiles’s pace. On Stiles’s terms. 

“I don’t think I want my arms or hands bound. I don’t want to be gagged. But I want something.” Stiles peeked at Derek shyly. “If, you know, you want to try something.”

Derek didn’t think he would ever want to restrain Stiles’s arms, not after seeing the short clip of video. He knew it bothered Stiles that his body had given in to the stimulation but with the amount of chemicals swimming around in his body, it was a wonder he had lasted as long as he did.

Refocusing on the conversation, Derek clarified, “Just to follow the rules of etiquette we read about, are you asking to submit to me?” Derek turned so he was facing Stiles.

Stiles’s face and throat were pink. “I’ve had some dreams.” Derek’s face must’ve arranged itself into a pattern of concern because Stiles hastened to add, “No, they were good dreams. Really good dreams. You were, um, doing things to me. With me. We were doing things to each other. I thought, maybe, we could try something? I’ve been doing some reading.”

That maybe explained a little bit of the increased libido Stiles had been experiencing lately.

“Absolutely,” Derek jumped in. “I think we should start slow. Get our feet wet. I might have something in mind.”

Stiles sat up straighter. “You do? Does it involve rope?”

“It does. It’s a simple cock and ball binding. Your hands and arms will be free.” Derek reached out and stroked Stiles’s lap, his fingers finding evidence of Stiles arousal. 

Stiles’s hips raised up, seeking out Derek’s touch. “Now?”

“If you’re sure,” Derek responded.

“I’m ready for this, Derek. Thank you for waiting for me.” Stiles replied, his weight shifting restlessly when Derek didn’t hasten his attentions.

“Stiles, I’d wait for you forever.” It was too sappy but Derek realized it was the truth.

Stiles looked gob smacked. Overwhelmed. His cock remained hard under Derek’s light ministrations.

“Now, Derek. Please. Now,” Stiles chanted.

Derek climbed to his feet, holding a hand out for Stiles. Stiles took it and let Derek pull him up to a standing position. “Why don’t you go downstairs into the office. I have some rope on the shelf. Do you want to pick out what I use on you?”

Stiles’s voice was low and husky when he answered, “Yes, sir.”

Derek had never planned to ask Stiles to call him anything other than his name but ‘sir’ sounded nice on his lips. 

Derek swatted Stiles’s ass. “It’s okay if you change your mind and I’ll ask you again.”

Stiles nodded but remained silent.

“I’m going to change into something else. We can either do this over your briefs or on your skin—think about that and I’ll be down shortly,” Derek said. 

Stiles shivered and croaked out, “Okay,” before disappearing down the stairs.

Derek went with a tank top and loose shorts. He peeled off his socks, liking the idea of his bare feet on the hardwood floor laminate.

Derek marched down the stairs. If Stiles wasn’t ready for this, that was fine. 

Stiles had the soft lighting on in the room and was kneeling down, head bowed, before a chair, a length of black rope in his hands.

Derek grabbed two things from a box on the shelf behind Stiles. He kept them screened from Stiles view, setting them behind the chair.

“How much reading have you done, Stiles? For example, if I ask you what color are you are right now, how would you answer me?” Derek asked.

“Green, sir,” Stiles responded right away. “Very, very green.” 

It looked like they were doing this. 

Derek settled in the chair, taking the rope from Stiles. “On your feet, please.”

Stiles gracefully rose to his feet and Derek noticed he was clothed in only his black boxer briefs. “Do you want me to bind you over your briefs?” He playfully snapped the waistband.

Stiles shifted his hips back, out of Derek’s reach. “I think I’d like to try it on bare skin. Is that okay?”

That was more than okay. “Absolutely. Go ahead and strip.”

Folding his briefs, Stiles settled it on the stack of clothes on the side table. His posture was straight, his steps measured, as he returned to stand in front of Derek. 

“You can either fold your arms behind you, holding on to your wrists, or you can put your hands on my shoulders,” Derek told him as he admired his physique.

Stiles had been lean before but he was scarily so now. Derek could see the jut of hipbones and ribs through the pale skin. There was muscle, too, the hiking and kickboxing paying dividends in that regard. At least the shadows had cleared from beneath Stiles’s eyes and his face had filled out some, less heroin chic and more athletically fit.

Derek was staring at the pronounced collarbone and laughed when Stiles flirted, “My eyes are up here, Derek.”

“Well something else seems to be down here needing my attention. If you need me to pause at any time, what do you say?”

“Yellow,” Stiles answered promptly.

Derek finished the reminder. “And if you need me to stop?”

“Red.”

“Very good. Now I’m going to loop this rope around your cock and scrotum and if you’re very good, I’ll have a surprise for you at the end.” Derek explained.

Stiles’s cock bobbed, his only response to Derek’s teasing. At least Derek had visual proof Stiles was into this.

Derek studied the canvas before him. Stiles had removed all of the hair from his groin, which was probably a good idea because Derek suspected the rope might pinch and pull otherwise.

The cock was long and gracefully built, like Stiles. His balls were already pulled up, tight and pretty. “Let’s begin.”

Stiles placed his hands on Derek’s shoulders, lightly, and sighed softly. He sounded content.

Derek folded the rope in half so that the center point was in his right hand and the two ends were in the other. He looped the doubled rope around the base of Stiles’s cock and scrotum, encircling everything snugly, and pulling the ends through the center. Derek remembered this tie was called a Lark’s Head and Stiles’s cock and balls seemed to approve of it, already expanding and pushing against their confines.

Snugging the loop tightly around the base, Derek paused when Stiles’s inhaled audibly. “Color?”

“Green, sir.” Stiles was still with the program.

Derek pulled the tails of the rope coming off the bottom of the loop as close to the center as possible. He had to loosen the loop and reposition it, and Stiles’s equipment, a few times until the placement was perfect.

Next Derek twisted the two tails together, repeatedly, until he could slide them up into the cleft between the balls. When he reached the base of the cock at the top of the ball sack, Derek split the ropes again and passed them behind the sac before pulling them back to the front. This little maneuver tightened the balls and was supposed to make them more sensitive. 

Stiles’s breathing had picked up and his grip on Derek’s shoulders had changed to more of a kneading touch, letting Derek know Stiles was enjoying his attentions.

To finish off the simple binding tie, Derek made a secure knot at the point between the base of the cock and ball sack. He knotted it twice to form a squared knot.

Derek pulled his focus back from the knot to admire the whole effect. It looked like the pictures he had seen so he must’ve done it right.

Wow. He remembered one of the blogs had likened tightening the balls with the cord or rope to the Wonder Bra, which was known for lifting and separating nicely.

Nicely was not descriptive enough. 

Swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth, Derek let his pointer finger trace over the binding. Stiles could totally rake in the bucks modeling this rope work. He was made for it.

Derek patted Stiles on the ass. “Get your briefs for me, please?”

Stiles made a little noise, maybe an impatient huff, but he did Derek’s bidding, fetching his black briefs. Derek admired the view from behind, enjoying the way Stiles’s buttocks flexed and displayed the dimple at the base of his spine. Derek thought these were called the Dimples of Venus and he found them a turn-on.

Of course the Iliac Furrow, the two shallow grooves that ran along the hipbones to the pubis, on Stiles were equally attractive. 

The cock and balls bouncing in their binding while Stiles padded back to him just about made Derek swoon.

Derek took the boxer briefs and held them out, silently urging Stiles into them. Stiles brow furrowed, perplexed, but he stepped into the garment. Derek pulled them up, smoothing the material over the bound package, making Stiles squirm.

Withdrawing another length of rope, a light blue one, Derek set to work.

“Hands on my shoulders,” Derek instructed when Stiles’s hands had drifted down to inspect the rope work. Derek had expected some good-natured grumbling but he got silent compliance.

Derek folded the light blue roped in half and made a loop around Stiles’s waist. He admired its trimness as he blindly made a knot at the small of Stiles’s back. 

The next part Derek did without warning and he enjoyed the throaty gasp Stiles made as he passed the rope ends between Stiles’s buttocks, pressed against his crack, and between his legs, pulling them apart to split around Stiles’s cock. Derek pulled the rope ends under the waist loop and made a knot in the front this time.

The rope ends were passed back between Stiles’s spread legs and up his crack, the rope ends being pulled back together again to separate Stiles’s muscular cheeks. The roped ends went under the waist loop again.

Each rope end went to the front, under the vertical ropes. This pulled the front ropes apart forming a diamond. 

Derek passed the rope ends back, under the two runs of the vertical ropes at the back, separating Stiles’s butt cheeks further.

Stiles was panting his arousal, trying not to shift his weight from foot to foot.

Nearing completion, Derek passed the ends to the front, under the front diamond and tied up a knot on both side apexes of the front diamond. The rope ends were snugged back between Stiles’s legs and buttocks, under the waist loop at the back, before they were returned to the front, under the diamond loops and the final knots were tied at the apexes.

The crotchrope made Derek hot and bothered and he tucked his index finger behind the vertical harness and tugged upward. “If I put in a butt plug then this would put pressure on it and you would—”

“Derek!” Stiles whined.

Derek stopped his teasing, his own cock was uncomfortably hard, and he withdrew his last surprise.

The roping on the outside of Stiles’s boxer briefs pulled the slinky material taut, displaying the bulge of cock and balls tied up beneath it. Stiles’s package was framed beautifully and Derek activated the on switch, applying the vibrator to Stiles’s taint. 

Stiles’s thrashed, nearly tipping himself over Derek. Derek thought this was a great idea and pushed on Stiles’s back, letting Stiles drape his weight, waist bent, over Derek’s broad shoulder. 

Stiles squirmed and panted and ground his groin against Derek’s bony shoulder. It was almost enough to make Derek come.

With one hand settling behind Stiles’s knees and the other gripping the vibrator, Derek took the few steps needed to put them in front of the leather couch. Derek leaned forward until Stiles’s feet hit the ground and then he steadied him until he was standing.

Stiles’s face was flushed and he swayed in place. “Derek, please,” he begged.

Derek guided him on to the couch, helping him so he was lying flat on his back. His legs were so long Derek had to put them over the edge of the couch’s arm and every time Derek moved him or adjusted him, Stiles mewled.

All of the ropes seemed to be doing their job, pushing and prodding and confining…Derek adjusted himself again, squeezing the base of his own cock through his shorts.

Once he was under control, Derek turned the vibrator back on and held it to the outside of the ballsack crease, enjoying the noises Stiles babbled. The way his eyelashes fluttered. The way his hips jerked.

Derek bent Stiles’s legs, ignoring the moan that spilled from his lips when the ropes pulled over sensitive bits, and moved the wand over where his hole was hidden. Stiles jerked and cried out and Derek had to place a hand over his stomach to still him.

Drawing the vibrating wand from over the hole, between parted legs, Derek let it trace the path of the cock and ball binding beneath the boxer briefs.

Stiles gave a shout, his hips jerking up despite Derek’s strength, moisture dampening the front of the black boxer briefs.

Derek’s own balls drew up, the base of his spine tingling, and his own orgasm flooded through him.

He came back to himself to find Stiles jerking and writhing beneath him, trying to evade the wand Derek still had pressed against him. “Too sensitive,” he panted out.

The vibrator was turned off quickly and Derek pushed himself to his feet, moving toward the shelf that held some of his, their, bondage equipment. He found the stainless steel surgical scissors and brought them back to the couch, making short work of snipping off the light blue crotchrope.

Derek stripped the black boxer briefs down, untying the cock and ball binding still holding Stiles in its grip. He was sad to see his hard work undone but he needed to make sure Stiles wasn’t rubbed raw from his gyrations. The skin was rubbed pink in spots but it didn’t look like any lasting damage had occurred.

Moving to the ensuite bathroom, Derek dampened a washcloth, then grabbed a cotton ball and a bottle of Witch Hazel. He returned to find Stiles reclining against the leather, one hand behind his head, the other rubbing his stomach.

“How do you feel?” Derek asked as he dropped down to his knees next to Stiles.

Stiles turned to him, eyes unfocused, features slack. His full lips pulled into a slow, sweet smile. He flopped his hand toward Derek. “I feel amazing. Thank you.”

That answered that question. Stiles was still flying from their scene, a scene Derek wouldn’t necessarily rate as intense but it had certainly gotten them both off.

“May I clean you up?” Derek asked, wanting to make sure he always had Stiles’s consent before he touched him.

“You’re the best, Derek,” Stiles sighed out.

Derek wiped Stiles’s genitals down with the cool, damp cloth, taking note of the areas that elicited a cringe. “I’m going to apply some Witch Hazel to some of the areas where the rope rubbed you.”

Stiles giggled. “Yeah, I was a bit overly enthusiastic. In my defense I’ve never felt as turned on as I did when you,” Stiles paused, thinking, “what exactly was that you did to me?”

“First I did a simple cock and ball binding, then I tied a crotchrope over your briefs. I have some ideas on how to make it better next time,” Derek said, soaking a cotton ball with the Witch Hazel before softly touching the cotton to some of the abraded skin.

Stiles gulped, audibly. “Better?” he croaked.

“Well, remember I mentioned a buttplug? The rope running down your crack and between your legs applies pressure to the plug, jiggling it against your prostate every time you move,” Derek explained, dabbing more of the astringent lotion to the sore looking skin.

“Oh, God, can we talk about this later?” Stiles whimpered, shifting against the leather. 

Derek’s face cracked open in a full smile. “We’ll do more than talk about it, but yes, later. It’s time for some aftercare,” he announced.

Setting aside the washcloth, cotton ball and lotion, he went to the mini fridge and withdrew two bottled waters. He snagged the soft, cotton blanket draped across the back of the matching leather chair and returned to Stiles. 

“Can you stand up for a minute?” Derek asked as he set down the waters on the coffee table.

Stiles pushed himself into a sitting position before he swung his legs down. Derek hauled him up, grimacing at the sound of Stiles’s skin unpeeling from the leather.

Derek quickly enfolded Stiles in the blanket before he sank into the leather couch, pulling Stiles down on top of him. Stiles hooked his left arm around Derek’s neck, his left side nestled against Derek’s chest, his legs draped over his thighs. Derek cuddled him closer.

Stiles’s breathing evened out quickly. “Hey, don’t go to sleep on me yet. You need to rehydrate. Grab those waters okay?” Derek jiggled Stiles a little, trying to rouse him.

Rubbing his eye with a fist, Stiles leaned forward to grab a water. He handed it to Derek who cracked it open, holding it to Stiles’s parted lips. The man in his lap took some gulps before pushing it away.

Derek upended the rest of the bottle into his own mouth. He’d expended a lot more energy, first tying Stiles up, then bringing him off, then he would’ve guessed.

This time when Stiles snuggled into him, burying his face in the side of Derek’s neck, Derek let him.

They could doze here for a while. Doze and just be.

-0-

Derek woke up to the sounds of Stiles talking to someone else in the other room. He didn’t want to be nosey but he couldn’t help it that Stiles was standing right outside of the bedroom with the door unlatched.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m doing a lot better. Derek got me interested in exercising and that seems to be helping both with the insomnia and my appetite.”

“We work out in his home gym every other day. I also hike with Malia and do kickboxing with Kira. Kickboxing is a blast! You should check it out.”

“I’m not saying no to therapy, I’m saying no to it right now. I need to do some more healing before I can talk about it.”

“No, I’m not keeping it bottled up. I just need to decide how I feel about it all.”

“No, Dad, I don’t blame you. The timing just wasn’t right.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to see it but I don’t know. One day at a time, right?”

“I love you, too, Dad. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Stiles pushed the door open and slid back into bed. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s time I got up anyway.” Derek said, stretching. He pulled Stiles into his arms, rolling the lighter man on top of him. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s okay. I don’t think he understands why I don’t want to come stay with him but he isn’t pushing me,” Stiles answered, snuggling closer. 

Derek rubbed his palm up and down Stiles’s spine, displeased with the tension he found. He’d worked really hard last night to dispel that and someone had undone his efforts. “What’s going on? You feel tense.”

Stiles made an effort to let the tension go, his body draping more heavily across Derek. Derek loved it. He’d never been this close to anyone before. He’d come from a big family, one that was especially close, but he could honestly say he felt closer to Stiles now than he ever had with them. He missed them like crazy but Stiles was his family now.

“Scott and Allison return next week from their honeymoon. I’m not looking forward to explaining anything to them,” Stiles mumbled, his face tucked into Derek’s neck. 

Stiles had begged everyone to keep his situation from the honeymooning couple. It hadn't been easy, and everyone knew Scot was going to be upset it had been kept from him, but it had been more important letting Stiles determine who found out and when. 

“Hey, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. You tell them what you’re comfortable telling them, and tell them to back off if they’re making you uncomfortable. I know he’s your best friend, but you don’t need to hash over everything to make him feel better,” Derek hugged Stiles tightly, making his ribs squeak before loosening his grip.

“Scott isn’t, you know,” Stiles said.

“Isn’t what?”

“My best friend. He was at one time, and he’ll always be my brother from another mother, but we’ve grown apart,” Stiles explained.

“Huh,” Derek said. “So does that mean I’m your—?”

“Best friend?” Stiles finished his sentence. “Yes, you big doofus. Best friend. Lover. Dom. You name it, and you’re it for me.”

That was about as sappy as Stiles Stilinski could ever get.

Feeling misty eyed, Derek didn’t have a chance to wallow in these feelings as Stiles’s stomach rumbled loudly.

“Apparently I’m the head cook who had better feed you,” Derek teased.

Stiles lifted his head and planted a butterfly soft kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth. “I meant it, you know. You’re it for me.”

Derek rolled them over so Stiles was on his back and Derek’s weight pinned him down to the bed. Licking at Stiles’s upper lip, Derek waited for Stiles to open up and let him in. When he did, Derek’s tongue sought out Stiles’s and he indulged in the lazy duel of a French kiss. 

When he pulled back, Derek stared into the wide, bourbon colored eyes staring up at him. “Ditto.”

Derek wasn’t known for his way with words—that was more Stiles’s style—but he must’ve said the right things because tears spilled from the corners of Stiles’s eyes.

Thumbing the moisture lightly from Stiles’s face, Derek smiled gently.

Things maybe weren’t exactly ideal for them. 

Garrett and Violet might be dead but whoever had assaulted Stiles was still out there. 

Stiles’s relationship with his dad was still a little rocky. 

Scott and Allison’s return might rock the boat even more. 

Derek was reluctant to let Stiles out of his sight and Stiles was even more reluctant to go anywhere alone. 

Both men smiled through their tears and hugged each other tightly. He didn’t know exactly what the future held for them but right now, in this moment and in Derek’s opinion, thing couldn’t get much better.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a RPF fic but it felt a little too invasive for that genre so I switched it over to straight show fanfic. That happened fairly early in the writing process but since I write scenes out of order, there might be some lingering continuity problems that I missed. If you find that to be the case, please let me know where I bungled things. In case you were curious, Rape/Non-Con was the prompt I tackled.
> 
> I would be remiss if I didn't mention I have Wikipedia and trolling the internet to thank for some of the information regarding BDSM. I'm not a practitioner, nor am I a therapist, which means if you have questions regarding Doms, subs, BDSM scenes, or treatment of anxiety and depression brought on by kidnapping and sexual assault, this fic is not the source to follow.
> 
> If you sensed the ending was a bit ambiguous, you would be correct. I'm pretty sure I will need to revisit this story so the characters can get some resolution, both in their relationships and in dealing with the Benefactor. Since I have 25 prompts on this bingo card, I'm hoping one of them will dovetail into a satisfactory conclusion before the year is out.
> 
> Thank you for taking your time to read this story!


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